


Colt and the Crossbow

by midnightopheliac



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Apocalypse, Comfort, Companionship, Flirting, Friends With Benefits, Implied Slash, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Slash, My First Work in This Fandom, NSFW, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Slash, Walkers (Walking Dead), Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:32:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightopheliac/pseuds/midnightopheliac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one-shots for the pairing of Rick/Daryl, with the occasional 'group' one-shot thrown in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Night Watch

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt ‘Rick isn’t a fan of the darkness anymore.’
> 
> Set in the gap between Seasons 3 & 4
> 
> First time writing for this fandom! I hope to do more Rickyl one-shots. I have a few prompts in mind but I'm totally open to some more if any of ya are interested and have any suggestions! :)
> 
> More fanfiction and pretty pictures to go with it over at www.midnightopheliac.wordpress.com

 

The dark was no longer something I enjoyed. The bleak blackness was terrifying now that the world had gone to shit. I use to enjoy the night, the evenings spent cuddled on the couch with Lori once Carl had been put to bed, the late evening raids on crack houses where the dealers and buyers would have no idea we were coming. Those were my favourite nights, when we could sneak around, shaded by the night that cloaked us, capturing the men and women partaking in illegal activities. The silence meant every footstep was calculated, every precaution taken not to make a single sound. The pounding of my heart, the adrenaline in my veins, they were the only things I could hear and feel until the front door came down, finger on the trigger of my trusty Colt Python .357 Magnum, ready to take down anyone wanting to hurt us as we saved more people from dying from cheap, low-quality cocaine. Shane and I had worked together on multiple raids and after every successful night I’d return home to my wife and child, safely locked away in our home, tucked into bed.  _How times have changed._  
  
Lori was gone and never in my 30+ years had I thought I would end up a single father. Carl had been distant for a while, cruel and lacking in the child-like innocence he would have had if the world hadn’t gone to hell, but my boy was slowly coming back to me, albeit with a sharper aim and a need for more responsibility. Then there was Judith, the little girl my wife had given birth to, who could be my best friends or mine. I would by lying if I said that I didn’t feel a deep pain, a stab of betrayal, every time I saw that little girl bundled up in the pink blanket Daryl had salvaged from the nursery he and Maggie had raided when we’d needed formula. I still loved Judith though, there was always the possibility that she was indeed mine, and she was still a part of Lori. Yes I loved Judith, but I would always be reminded of Shane’s betrayal, of Lori’s betrayal.  
  
Daryl doted on Judith, always making runs for more formula, scribbling ‘Lil’ Asskicker’ along with some cartoon stars and hearts on whatever box we managed to scrounge together as a bed for her, rocking her to sleep, cooing at her and grinning like a damn fool when she reached up with one of her little, chubby hands to grasp at his surprisingly clean fingers. The man wasn’t known for his hygiene, but he always made a point of cleaning his hands before he picked up, fed, or played with Judith. Something about not wanting her to get sick from all the blood and dirt lodged under and on his chewed up nails. All she could do was gum at his fingers, and I’d feel sorry for him when she started teething in a few months. The tough redneck had a heart of gold, though he reserved such displays of affection for our group, shying away from any praise from the Woodbury group we’d rescued and slipping back into the gruff demeanour he was infamous for when the world had first fallen into chaos.  
  
We tried not to light candles at night – not only would the light draw walkers in our direction but it was getting harder and harder to get our hands on matches and candles. The run Daryl and Glenn had been on this morning had not been very successful. They’d found half a packet of matches, 3 candles and a few cans of Spam along with a box of Jell-O. Thankfully Hershel’s farming experience has given us quite a varied vegetable garden, so we were able to mix the Spam with some green peas and boiled potatoes for dinner. It was almost like the Sunday roast Lori used to make, once Carol had cracked out the Jell-O for desert.  
  
The inability to use candles, and the preserving of batteries that led to limited flashlight usage, made me uncomfortable. The dark was no longer something I enjoyed, no longer something I could find comfort in. The once peaceful silence was broken by the low groans of walkers outside the prison fences, the slight rattling of the metal and barbed wire as they pushed against it, not understanding why they couldn’t get to the fresh meat they so desperately craved. The dark also brought with it the memories. The little girl bending down for her beloved teddy bear, only to turn around and show me her mutilated face before she made a beeline for me, wanting nothing more than to rip into my flesh. There was the half-destroyed woman whose insides were spewed out over the grass embankment as she reached out for me while I stole her bicycle. Then Amy as she died in Andrea’s arms, Carl as he was gunned down by Otis when all he’d wanted to do was reach out and pet the deer, Daryl as he returned from his search for Sophia, bloody and battered, with walker ears around his neck. The moment he’d gone down, the sound of Andrea’s gunshot ringing through the quiet farmland, my heart had lurched. He’d come a long way from the rough, angry redneck I’d first encountered, swinging his crossbow at me, lunging at me as I’d told him of his brothers’ location back in the city.  
  
Scrubbing my hands over my face I sighed as the rough bristles of my beard scratched my palms. Razor’s and shaving foam were surprisingly easy to find – not many people seemed to care about their appearance when the world had ended – but shaving was a pointless task. It would grow back, and I would need to shave all over again. It was just easier to let it do its own thing and simply trim away when it got too much with the pair of scissors that Lori had always carried in the emergency first aid kit in the back of the Hyundai.  
  
It was my turn on watch tonight and the guard tower offered me a complete 360 view of the prison and its grounds, though it offered me no warmth whatsoever, especially as we were just emerging from winter. There was little furniture in the room save for built in desks all the way around and a lone chair, but Beth had dragged up a couple of mattresses one day when she’d been stationed up in the tower. They were placed on the desks, which were just wide enough to accommodate a single sized mattress, in order to keep them as clean as possible and so that whoever was on duty could lie down and still see out of the tower’s windows. I’d kicked off my boots about an hour ago, now fours hours into my eight-hour watch.  
  
“Brought ya a blanket. Ya look fuckin’ cold.” The rough voice at the doorway dragged me from my thoughts. Turning my head I glanced in Daryl’s direction, the moon illuminating his sharp cheekbones and drawn face. The winter had been a hard one, even with the walls and fences protecting us. Daryl had given up his share of food on more than one occasion and it had taken some serious negotiation between us before he would even consider sharing my portion. Stubborn ass. Our resident hunter had eyes like a hawk, it was what made him so good at tracking animals, so it came as no surprise that he had noticed me from the yard rubbing my arms a few times over the past couple of hours in a desperate attempt to create some heat.  
  
Tipping my head to the left I silently gestured for Daryl to enter, and the hunter crossed the room towards me, his trusty Stryker Strykezone 380 Crossbow hanging casually over his shoulder. Damn thing never left his sight. Reaching a hand out I took the slightly dirty blanket from him, not caring for the light layer of muck. Any warmth was greatly appreciated these days and laundry wasn’t the top of everyone’s priority list.  
  
“Thanks man.” I shook the blanket out over the floor behind me, bringing it up to wrap around my shoulders.  
  
“No problem. Can’t ‘ave ya freezin’ to death.” He gave a slight shrug of his broad shoulders, moving his crossbow up and off his shoulder to rest on one of the mattresses beside us. Daryl had long since become accustomed to being around me, even relaxing a little in my presence. He shuffled a lot around others, a man who was never capable of being still longer than a minute or two, and on occasion I would catch him flinching whenever there was a loud noise. Having been on the force, and spotting the scars marking his back when he was recovering from Andrea’s bullet graze, it hadn’t taken much for me to piece together that the man at my side hadn’t had it easy as a kid. I felt a strange warmness at knowing he was comfortable enough around me to stay still for extended periods of time, that he allowed me to pat him on the back, grab his hand for help whenever I needed him.  
  
“You’re cold yourself, get under here.” I lifted the side of the blanket, noting how Daryl’s arms were exposed from his flimsy sleeveless shirt and his leather vest. He hesitated for a moment, a split second reaction, before he toed off his battered boots, pulling himself up to sit on the mattress beside me before he took the edge of the blanket and wrapped it around himself. For a man who usually hated to be touched he had no problem sitting so close to me that our entire sides were pressed together – knee-to-knee, shoulder-to-shoulder.  
  
The hunter shuffled under the somewhat small blanket for a moment, trying to get comfortable before he huffed in exasperation. A muscular arm crept around my waist, pulling us even closer together, making the small blanket cover Daryl by an extra inch. I didn’t comment on his arm around my waist, it was best not to given how skittish Daryl could become, but I loosened my hold on my edge of the blanket, letting Daryl take a little more. The man gave up his food for the others, the least I could do was give up some of the blanket for him.  
  
We’d fallen into this comfortable friendship that sometimes boarded on something a little more. There were nights where Daryl’s insomnia kicked in and I’d often wake to find him lurking at my cell door, seeking company for the evening, a warm body to sleep next to. He would always sleep wedged between the wall and I, protected on both sides, an arm lazily slung around my waist to keep me in place. The trust he put in me on those nights was astounding given that the man hadn’t given a shit for anyone other than himself and his brother only a few months back. There were also the nights when the darkness plagued me, bringing forth the memories I couldn’t shake, and those were the nights that I would join Daryl on his perch or up in the guard tower if it was his turn to be on watch. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d fallen asleep leaning against him. Then there was the times we showered together, not only to conserve what little clean water we could gather from rain and other sources, but ‘cause the showers were located at the other end of the cell block and there was no telling if any walkers had managed to creep in undetected since the last person had bathed. We never called one another out on this behaviour, never spoke of it aloud, but there was a silent understanding between us. We both needed the comfort one another offered, the silent show of friendship and resilience, the reminder that we had one another’s back.  
  
“Ya need ta get some sleep Grimes, ya look like shit.” Daryl muttered from beside me, his eyes focused on the ground around us, scouring the night for any shuffling walkers, any critters trying to breach the perimeter fence.  
  
Making an exaggerated inhalation I suppressed my smile. “Least I don’t smell like shit.” I teased, bumping my shoulder against the redneck beside me.  
  
The corner of his lips quirked upwards ever so slightly as he fought his own smile, his eyes remaining focused on the land around us. “Woulda showered this mornin’, but ya were out gatherin' them damn peas for dinna from the vegetable patch, Farmer Carver. Wouldn’ta been able ta reach ma back.” Daryl leant in against me, his weight comfortable against my shoulder as his hand around my waist gave a playful squeeze.  
  
“We could shower once my guard is over?” I suggested casually, suppressing my excitement at such a thing as I enjoyed the way Daryl now turned to look at me. In a world that had gone to shit, where every day was a constant battle, I found a piece of joy in watching the hunter fumble with his clothing, huffing and growling at the buttons on his shirt as he tried to desperately remove it before I used up all the water and the ration of soap we had with us. The months of lean eating and hefting that heavy crossbow had slimmed the man down and built up the corded muscles of his frame. There was a thrill now to watching the soapsuds as they tried to slide down his tanned, rough skin to the uneven tiled floor below. I had never been interested in watching how the soapsuds would slide down Shane’s body when we’d been cleaning up after a dirty or bloody call-out. It was only Daryl. Of course it was only Daryl.  
  
“Yea we could, but only if ya get some sleep, Grimes. I ain’t gonna tell ya twice. Ya can even use me shoulder as your damn pillow again if ya please.” He bargained. It had become a habit of ours, bargaining with one another rather than arguing. Lori and I had fought a lot. Well, she’d yelled a lot and I’d taken it, not entirely sure how to react. We’d been taught on the force to be calm and rational at all times, to negotiate. Lori had never been interested in any negotiating.  
  
Weighing up my options for a moment I pursed my lips together. “Who’s gonna keep watch though if I fall asleep on ya?” I mentioned the flaw in Daryl’s plan. The hunter was having none of it though and he used those muscles that the months on the run had given him to pull me down so my head was resting in his lap, my body covered as much as possible with the blanket shared between us.  
  
“Shut ya mouth and sleep. I got this ya know I do. Always got ya back, Rick.” One of his large hands landed on my head, petting my hair. It was in need of a cut but the last time I’d tried to take scissors to it Daryl had flipped out, snatching the offending items from me in order to ‘preserve my messy mop.’ He told everyone that he found it amusing how I’d gone from a clean-cut deputy to a scruffy apocalyptic leader. I knew better though. My hunter enjoyed running his fingers though my hair at any opportunity he got.  
  
As if on cue his fingers started to weave in my hair, his nails scratching at my scalp every so often. He knew by now that this was the only thing that kept the memories away, that managed to soothe me enough so that I could sleep. “I know ya do, Daryl. I appreciate it, I do. I’m grateful to have ya.”  
  
Daryl’s dexterous fingers lingered on the back of my neck for a moment, flirting against the skin there. He wasn’t very good with emotions, struggling to accept compliments and praise, finding it awkward to express his feelings. Over time we’d learnt how to read one another, to understand the smallest pieces of body language. I could hear the smile in his voice though as he spoke again in that soft tone of his, where his voice took on a husky quality. My eyes closed with the weight of exhaustion and rare relaxation as his fingers resumed their path through my lightly matted mane. “Ya can show me just how grateful ya are when we get to them showers, Rick.” 


	2. Google's Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - ‘I miss the internet’
> 
> Pairing – Whole group interaction, some parts can be taken as implied Rick/Daryl though
> 
> Set during S3 (but after Rick has come back from crazy town) or during the very start of S4
> 
> Virtual high-five for anyone who finds the Boondock Saints references! ;)

Daryl had been out hunting again. The vegetable path that Hershel and Rick had planted once they were sure the soil was free of walker guts had provided plenty of greenery for the group, but without some meat meals weren’t the same. Glenn had found a few wild piglets on a run one day and had brought them back to the prison to raise, hoping they’d procreate and give the group plenty of potential for bacon. Beth had mentioned once or twice how much she loved bacon, and just how much she missed it.  
  
Rick and Carl were there to open the fence the moment Daryl approached carrying the plump doe over his broad shoulders, his trusty crossbow slung over one shoulder and pinned under the doe, making it difficult for him to fight back should he have been attacked by hungry walkers. Sweat covered his brow and his clothes were filthy from spending the day tracking the animal, blood splatters mixing with the dirt to create a foul blend and rotten stench.  
  
Carl was quick to shut the gate behind Daryl, ensuring it was firmly locked before he ran ahead, up to yard outside the cell block to alert the others that Daryl was back with an animal that would need dressing. Rick walked beside the hunter, his hand on Daryl’s crossbow, lifting it off his back a little so he didn’t have to heft the extra weight. Rick would’ve offered to help carry the doe but he knew just how stubborn Daryl was.  
  
Dropping the doe down onto the concrete floor of the yard the group surrounded Daryl, clapping him on the back, cheering his latest catch. He shuffled awkwardly, bobbing his head every now and then, turning on the spot a few times to shy away from the attention. “Go get cleaned up, ya covered in blood and muck.” Rick ordered Daryl, jutting his chin out in the direction of the cellblock and the showers. “We’ll take care a this.”  
  
Debating the offer for a moment, Daryl gave Rick a small nod, accepting the chance to bathe in peace and escape from the hordes of survivors all clamoring to congratulate and thank him. He didn’t do it for the thanks but ‘cause they needed to eat, and if he didn’t go out hunting then no one would.  
  
As Daryl retreated towards the cellblock, his crossbow never leaving his side, Rick turned back to the group, all of whom were looking at the doe in contemplation. “Anyone ever prepped one ‘fore?” He looked around at the gathered group. Maggie and Beth didn’t look too keen on cutting up the doe, and Hershel was more familiar with cows, pigs, and sheep than any game. Carl was tending to Judith, ruling him out from offering a helping hand. That left Rick, Glenn, and Carol.  
  
“Never had t'. Used to be able to go down t’ the store and buy my meat pre-packed.” Carol offered.  
  
“I used to deliver pizza, so don’t look at me.” Glenn held his hands up while shrugging. “I woulda thought Daryl would’ve dressed it while out there.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the fences.  
  
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Yes, because cutting open a doe and dumping its innards wouldn’t attract a couple of walkers.” Glenn scowled in his girlfriend’s direction, not keen on her retort.  
  
“We can dress the doe and use its innards to lure the walkers away from the fences, lead them back out to the woods, maybe even find a few sinkholes or some mud for them to get stuck in. Not gonna make much difference given how many walkers there are out there, but even a few less is a start.” Hershel offered, having taken a seat on one of the few picnic benches Beth and Carl had dragged over from another yard a week after the group had taken over the prison.  
  
Beth grimaced as her father spoke of the doe’s internal organs. “Looks like it’s just us three preparin’ this thing.” Rick spoke to Carol and Glenn. Carol was already armed with a kitchen knife that she’d found in the canteen when she’d gone searching for cooking supplies with Maggie, and Glenn scooped up the hunting knife that was kept on one of the benches, just in case whoever was outside was attacked by a couple of walkers that had somehow managed to slip out of one of the other cell blocks.  
  
“Come on Carl, we don’t wanna watch this.” Beth instructed, placing an arm around Carl before she led him, carrying Judith, back into the cellblock. Carl went with her happily, enjoying that he would get to spend some time alone with the pretty girl who was the closest to his own age. Maggie helped Hershel up, walking him back into the cellblock so he could rest. He was still adjusting to life on crutches.  
  
“Well then.” Rick sighed, looking down at the doe as he removed the blade he kept tucked in his boot. Daryl had told him to always keep a blade on him, just in case he ran out of bullets or didn’t have a blunt object to fight with. Rick figured that Daryl just fancied himself as the next Rambo.  
  
“Don’t we gotta cut a circle ‘round its butt so it's free and can be removed from within?” Carol was the first to offer up the way to prep the animal. “I think Ed once said some folks tie it off with string to prevent its contents from tainting the meat.” She mused.  
  
Daryl had taught Rick to hunt over the winter months when they’d been running after the farm, away from the safety that the walls of the prison offered them. Rick was nowhere near as good as the redneck, but he could catch a few squirrels and rabbits if needed. Whenever Daryl had gone to prepare the meat though Rick had disappeared, not having the stomach to do it. He could face off walkers, put blades and bullets through their skulls, but the prospect of carving up a buck or a squirrel had Rick squirming.  
  
“Didn’t Daryl say that you’re supposed t’ start cutting close to the pelvis?” Glenn offered as the three of them crouched down to examine the doe a little better.  
  
“I thought you were supposed t’ start at the neck.” Rick offered, blade poised to make the first cut close to the animals throat. “We can peel the hide off that way, turn it inta a blanket ready for winter.”  
  
Carol nodded in agreement, the use of the animal’s hide as a blanket for the winter would be in everyone’s best interest and would ensure that as much of the animal as possible would be used. “Aren’t you supposed to gut it first though?” Glenn asked, lifting one of the animals’ hind legs to expose the animal’s pelvis, where he was adamant the first cut was supposed to happen.  
  
“The guts would dirty the fur, not to mention all the blood. I don’t think Daryl bled it out.” Rick offered, examining the creature for any cuts Daryl might have put in the critter to bleed it out before he hefted it back to the prison. Rick found no such marks.  
  
Carol sighed heavily, putting her face in her free hand. “It is times like this I miss the internet. We coulda just googled how to prepare this stupid thing, instead of relying on what tidbits of information we’ve gathered ova’ the months.”  
  
“We coulda just googled how to survive in an apocalypse too.” Glenn grimaced. “Didn’t realize how much I took the internet for granted ‘fore we lost it.”  
  
“I took a lot for granted ‘fore the world went t’ shit.” Rick rubbed at his face, thinking of Lori and their relationship before the accident, before he’d ended up in a coma, waking up in today’s world without a clue as to what was happening. He’d tried to show Lori how much he loved her, he took her out on dates, brought her flowers, remembered her birthday and their anniversary. They’d still fought though, Lori raising her voice and yelling at him with Rick unable to yell back at her, not wanting to emotionally hurt her. He'd wanted to try and fix their relationship after he'd killed Shane, wanted to try and return to some form of normalcy, but it was difficult to do so when all he could see was his old best friend and his wife going at it every time he looked at her. There was also the fact she often blamed him for doing what she'd asked. Shane was a threat, he was getting out of hand. He hadn't wanted to kill his best friend but he'd been left with no choice, and Lori had resented him for it the moment she'd found out.  
  
“I thought ya pansies were gonna prep the damn doe?” Daryl’s rough voice cut through the prison yard as he emerged from the cellblock, dark hair plastered to his face and dressed in his other pair of jeans – the freshly cleaned ones – along with one of Rick’s shirts. Rick had raided a clothing store a few weeks back, fed up of having only his service shirt to hand, and Daryl had taken to borrowing his clothing. The hunter could never be bothered to go out and scrounge clothing for himself, and Rick was as close to him in build as possible. It was just easier for Daryl if he borrowed Rick’s clothing, not that the deputy minded. He actually enjoyed seeing the hunter clean and in his clothing. Daryl's crossbow was slung over his shoulder in its usual place.  
  
“We would’ve if we could figure out where t’ start!” Glenn protested, taking umbrage with being called a pansy.  
  
“Ya didn’t bleed it out either.” Rick pointed out as Daryl reached the group, taking his usual spot at the deputy’s right-hand side, placing his crossbow down on the picnic bench beside them.  
  
“No need ta. Once a deer is dead the heart no longer pumps blood. If the blood ain’t circulating then cuttin’ the throat won’t bleed any blood from the deer. It jus’ messes up the cape – the bit ‘round its neck an’ shoulders.” Daryl moved to the Hyundai, pulling out a length of rope. He loved his stupid fuckin' rope. When he'd first found it in a hardware store Rick had been at a loss as to what they'd need it for. Daryl had told him rope was always needed and Rick had challenged him, asking him to name one thing he would need it for, but the hunter had been right anyway. Maggie had used it when Glenn had fallen into a sinkhole over the winter, and Rick had used it to tie Daryl to him when they'd been scouting out a dark hospital for medicine and they hadn't wanted to risk being parted. “Help me heft this thing up. Can slit its throat now and bleed it out inta a bucket, use it to lead a group o’ walkers away from the fences.” Daryl instructed.  
  
Rick helped him tie up the animals’ hind legs and lift the doe off the floor. Carol and Glenn located a hook wedged into the crumbling wall of the prison and all four worked together to lift the animal and string it up, head down. Glenn slid a bucket under the doe’s head and in one fluid movement Daryl cut its throat, the blood flowing downwards and over the animals’ face, into the bucket. The cape was safe from any blood this way.  
  
“Why did it take ya so long?” Daryl asked, leaning against the wall beside the doe as it bled out beside him. Glenn was a little pale, and Carol was paying more attention to cleaning her knife with a rag from her pocket than watching the doe bleed.  
  
“We couldn’t decide how t’ start. Was wishing we had the internet so we could Google it.” Rick explained with a shrug, looking to Glenn and Carol who nodded in agreement.  
  
Shaking his head Daryl snorted. “The internet? I'm better than any internet search when it comes t' this." A lop-sided smile painted his slightly chapped lips as he looked at Carol, Glenn, and then Rick, his eyes finding the leaders. He enjoyed teasing the deputy for his cozy lifestyle pre-apocalypse. "Ya damn city folk, ya wouldn’ta lasted a second where I’m from.”


	3. Sinful Smoker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt – 'Rick hates Daryl smoking.' – partly inspired by Sean Patrick Flanery and his concern over the fact that Norman smokes.
> 
> Pairing – Rick/Daryl
> 
> Set during the break between S3 and S4

Smoking was a dirty habit and it was something I had always been against. Never in my life had I placed my lips on the end of a cigarette and I never wished to. I'd seen what it could do to people, what withdrawal from nicotine could do to people without the proper support and help. Daryl smoked the damn things like they were going out of fashion, always grabbing as many packets as he could find when we raided a store or even homes. He always had a lighter on him, and at least two smokes. Though I cared for the man dearly and even loved him, his smoking was the one thing that constantly came between us. After sucking on a cigarette I would always refuse Daryl's kisses until he'd either taken a good drink of water or washed his mouth out with what little mouthwash we could scrounge up. Though the taste of smoke, motor oil, and woodlands was distinctly Daryl, and made up part of the man I loved, I wished he would give up cigarettes, if only for his health. There were no hospitals anymore, no way to get him treatment if he developed lung or oral cancer. It would be just our luck for my hunter to be struck down with cancer rather than a walker bite. I wanted him to give up as soon as possible so that the risk of him dying from cancer was significantly reduced. I needed him to stay alive. I needed him to stay with us. I just plain needed him.

Every time I mentioned giving up smoking, the younger Dixon would shut me out, shrug his shoulders and scowl at me before he would move the conversation on. I'd even tried broaching the subject post-coital, when my hunter was more relaxed and at ease, but he'd still managed to shut me down. I didn't think he realised just how important the topic, and his health, was to me, to all of us in our group.

It was on one of our runs that an idea struck me, a way to make my hunter see how his actions were damaging his body, reducing his lifespan. Glenn and I were scouring a house a few miles from the prison in a cul-de-sac that we hadn't properly explored. While my Korean counterpart was searching through the kitchen cupboards for canned food I ventured upstairs to one of the bathrooms. Machete in hand I rounded the top of the stairs, greeted with the sight of two walkers – one dressed in a nightie that was bloody and torn up, and the other dressed in a suit. The matching bands on their fingers gave me a moment of sadness. Husband and wife had died together and had then reanimated together. My sadness was interrupted as the man lunged for me, but three swipes of my machete had them both falling to the floor, skulls open and brains splattered over the floor.

Stepping over them with caution, not wanting to run the risk of being bitten like Hershel had, I navigated my way to the bathroom. The bathroom cabinet was still closed so when I opened it I found it well stocked. Grabbing everything I could find I threw it into my ratty backpack, not sure what exactly we would need or not, but we wouldn't be coming back into this house any time in the future so taking everything was the best thing to do. Reaching for the last item on the shelf I found a tube of extra strong Orajel. An idea struck me. Throwing the tube into the front pocket of my backpack, where I'd be able to reach it easier once we were back at the prison, I made my way back downstairs to Glenn.

"We good t' go?" I asked the Korean, who nodded as he zipped up his bag, all the cupboards now open and empty. There was a pantry door open too and the shelves were all clear. We'd brought two big bags with us and Glenn had filled them both. It was a good run and we'd have enough canned food to mix with the vegetables we were growing to last us at least a week. The Woodbury group sent out their own group to search homes, but we let them have whatever vegetables we didn't use until they could get their own vegetable garden going.

We left the way we'd entered, out through the back door and around the side of the house. The Hyundai was parked out front, the doors locked to make sure that no walkers got in. I'd witnessed them having the ability to open doors when Morgan's wife, Jenny, had approached the house we'd been holed up in when they'd initially taken me in. I'd been looking through the peephole when she'd reached out for the door handle, turning it but unable to open it thanks to the lock. I wasn't sure if all walkers had the ability to open doors, or if Jenny simply held some memory of opening the door given that it had been her home, but our group wasn't about to risk having our main car taken over by curious walkers.

Glenn had both bags over one shoulder, the weight slowing him a little, but we were in luck as there were few walkers out on the street. Most seemed to stay in the homes they had inhabited before the world had gone to hell. Moving as a pair we headed towards the Hyundai. The keys were in my pocket so I pulled them out, moving to the trunk first. Glenn kept watch as I opened the trunk, putting all of our bags in there. Shutting it quietly, and with the coast clear, we ran to the sides of the vehicle. The beeping and flashing of the car as I unlocked it alerted some of the walkers out on the street to our presence. They turned in our direction, stumbling towards us. Glenn ducked into the vehicle and I followed, chucking my machete into the foot well as I sat in the drivers seat, slamming down on the locking mechanism inside the car, locking us in. Starting the car I pulled us away from the sidewalk just as a walker reached out for the back of the car. He stumbled, falling face first on to the tarmac.

The ride back to the prison was quiet. Glenn was still concerned about Maggie and her mistreatment at the hands of the Governor, even though she was adamant that she was okay. Hershel had checked her over when we'd all returned and given her the all clear. Glenn had breathed a sigh of relief, his main concern being that she'd been defiled against her will. I could understand the pain he felt for the mistreatment of his other half. When we'd gone back to rescue Daryl from the Governor, when he'd been in that arena with all of those walkers around him and his bastard of a brother beating him up, I'd wanted nothing more than to put bullets between the eyes of all of those who dared to lay a hand on him, even his worthless brother.

Carol was there to open the gate when we arrived back and soon the whole group was approaching the car, wanting to see the fruits of our labour. Before anyone could get too close I hopped out of the drivers seat, opening the boot and removing the tube of Orajel, sliding it into the back pocket of my jeans.

"Ya find much?" Daryl's voice was the first I could hear as he moved around to the trunk, standing next to me. Offering a smile I nodded, flourishing my hands towards the full bags.

"Glenn found a huge stash of canned food, think the people who lived in the house were preparin' for the end of the world anyways. Even found some medicine in the bathroom." I handed over one of the food bags to Carol and the other to Beth. The pair of them had taken to mothering us all, cooking for us and cleaning our clothes. Glenn grabbed the medicine bag, disappearing with it towards the cell block and Hershel, who would no doubt want to go through it and see what was useful and what wasn't. Michonne helped Beth haul her food bag as the young lady was still relatively weak compared to the rest of the group as she hadn't had to physically fight very much.

"See any smokes while ya were there?" Daryl asked, grabbing at his back pocket and pulling out a cigarette as I slammed down the trunk of the car. Lighting up, Daryl took a few puffs, blowing the smoke away from me.

"Even if I did ya know I wouldn't bring them back for you." I pointed out, the younger man scowling at me as he puffed again on the cancer stick, the tip glowing ever so slightly.

"Runnin' damn low on the things." My hunter grumbled, blowing out smoke rings.

Trying to suppress a smile at the fact Daryl may soon have to give up smoking, especially if I 'couldn't find' any more when on runs with Glenn, I glanced in his direction. "Shame that." I teased, earning myself a light slug on the shoulder from the hunter's free hand.

"Fuck ya, Grimes." He shook his head, moving the cigarette from his lips to his fingers as he exhaled. Though his smoking was a dirty habit, the way his lips wrapped around the end of the damn stick was sinful and reminded me of all the wonderful things that mouth could do, and all the wonderful things it had already done.

Taking a step towards the hunter I crowded him against the back of the car. It wasn't too long ago that being pinned to something would frighten him and he'd lash out, but he trusted me not to push him too far. "Ya did this mornin', Dixon. Maybe I need to refresh your memory." A well placed hand on the back of the Hyundai to the side of Daryl's head stopped my hunter from looking away as that damn adorable blush coloured his skin. He was tough and talked smack when fighting walkers, but mention fucking and my hunters features went as red as the tomatoes growing in the vegetable patch.

Daryl leaned forward, intending to place a kiss on my lips, but the fact he'd been sucking on a cigarette had me turning my head, his lips capturing my cheek instead. Hurt and anger flashed in his eyes for a moment before he took one last drag on his cigarette, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it with the toe of his old boot. He went in for another kiss, his hands locking on my neck in a desperate attempt to force me into accepting his rare gesture of affection. "I'll stop our morning fucks." I threatened half-heartedly, not really wanting to remove such a privilege as it was my favorite way to start the day, but I didn't want to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening tasting tar in my mouth.

I'd pushed my hunter too far though and with a growl the younger Dixon shoved me backwards and I stumbled a few steps, but he'd managed to free himself. Storming off he headed into the cell block, swearing angrily as he went. He scared Beth and Carol who were going through the canned food on one of the picnic benches in the yard. Scrubbing at my face I decided to give Daryl some time to cool off. During our winter on the run I'd cornered him when he was angry and he'd all but beaten me to a pulp. Once his anger had disappeared and he'd realized what he'd done he'd apologized in that awkward, unsure way of his. I'd learnt my lesson though. Daryl was like a tiger, all interesting and pretty when he felt free and unrestrained, but the moment you cornered him he was ready to strike, to attack and free himself regardless of the cost.

"He'll come around." Beth offered me as I passed her and Carol working through the food. With a small nod I ventured into the cell block. Daryl was nowhere to be found and I took the opportunity to enter our cell. Daryl hated sleeping in a cage, preferring the perch, but he'd sometimes come and sleep next to me if he was tired, or having difficulty falling asleep. He'd also taken to keeping his few belongings in my cell too.

Crouching down to Daryl's bag I rummaged around for his pants, knowing he hid his cigarette's in the back pocket. Removing the Orajel from my back pocket I emptied Daryl's last four cigarettes on to the sheets of our bed. I felt a little bad for what I was about to do, but I could only hope he'd find the funny side of it and maybe realize how bad his habit had become.

Carol called us all for dinner an hour or so later. The exact time was difficult to keep track of, not that time really mattered anymore. It didn't matter if it was 6am or 6pm, it's not like any of us had anywhere important to be, or any important things we had to do at certain times. I hadn't seen Daryl since he'd stormed off earlier in the day, and ever since I'd completed my little task I'd been worrying about him. It was hard not to worry about him. I knew he was able to take care of himself, and a lot of the time he took care of me too. Taking a seat at the benches in the yard, the rest of the group knew to leave a space beside me. Daryl and I always moved as a pair and he would always sit beside me, as close as he could damn well get. Sometimes I felt the temptation to just haul the man onto my lap, save him the trouble of all the shuffling over.

It was ten minutes before Daryl sauntered in, an angry scowl on his hard features, his eyes dark and murderous as they landed on me. We'd already started eating and the rest of our group had noticed that Daryl was missing from my side, but everyone started trading stories of their day anyway. Glenn was telling the tale of our run, filling in the other members of our group on the fact that most of the houses in the neighborhood seemed to be untouched, and that it might be a good idea to get a big group together, including some from Woodbury, and raid the whole cul-de-sac before someone else did.

The hunter instinctively slid into the vacant seat beside me. Pushing the bowl between us I offered some of my food to Daryl, partly as a peace-offering and partly because I knew that if I didn't then he wouldn't eat this evening. He was always giving up his food for others, feigning innocence when I called him out on it. With a hefty shove he pushed the bowl back at me, making sure his elbow connected with my ribcage. Wincing at the sting of his bony elbow to my ribcage I stifled my grunt. His left hand landed on my knee under the table, giving a hard, vice-like squeeze. I was about to bat his hand away, about to shuffle over into the small bit of space left on our bench, but Daryl's hand shifted, coming to grab at my crotch. His squeeze this time was a little gentler, but he lent over, his lips centimeters from my ear. "Ya thank ya so damn funny, Grimes." He slurred, growling under his breath. Though in pain from his somewhat tight hold I still had to suppress my smile. The Orajel had worked.

Daryl was known for getting revenge though, and his tight hold on my crotch slackened a little and instead he began to rub, his thumb firm on every stroke, keeping his movement to his wrist so the rest of the group wouldn't be alerted. "Fuck." I hissed under my breath, dropping my head to my hands as I tried to compose myself. Daryl's fingers were magical.

Needing a distraction I pushed the bowl towards Daryl once again, though this time I picked up a carrot stick, offering it out to him. He opened his mouth, ready to take the offered carrot. Our group didn't even break conversation at our antics. On more than one occasion I'd had to physically force food into Daryl. One night, when we'd been on watch together in the guard tower, he'd let down his walls a little more. He'd opened up to me, told me that the reason he was so good with his crossbow was 'cause his old man would go out and get blind drunk and spend days between the legs of whores, not caring for Daryl. Merle would be off getting high somewhere, or would be locked up in prison for doing something stupid, and Daryl would have to fend for himself. It was why hunger didn't bother him. He was used to it. His uncle had given him a crossbow for his 16th birthday though and he'd gone out hunting every time his dad and brother had disappeared so he wouldn't have to go hungry again. He'd taught himself how to hunt and track, how to prepare animals so they could be eaten. His story only made me want to take care of him more, to remind him that hunger was no longer a problem for him, that I'd always make sure he was fed.

He took the offered carrot, biting a chunk off before he tried to chew. Though his jaw was moving he was unable to feel anything, the Orajel that I'd smothered on the end of his cigarettes, as he always smoked before dinner, having made his lips, tongue, and gums numb. Unable to feel anything, he didn't notice the bits of mashed up carrot slipping from the corner of his lips until they were down his chin, falling to the table. Everyone in the group stopping talking, turning to look at the tough redneck as he continued to chew and swallow, food dribbling from the corners of his mouth.

"What you fuckers lookin' at?" He snapped, face clouding with embarrassment as he used his free hand to wipe at his mouth and chin. Carl bit his lower lip to stop his laughter and I refrained from scolding Daryl for swearing in front of my son. The world had ended, who cared if Carl heard someone drop the f-bomb?

"It seems like the walkers are staying in the houses they use t' live in. I don't know if they recognise them or anything, but there weren't many on the street. There was a husband and wife in the house we raided, upstairs in the hallway." I told the gathered group, steering the group back into conversation and off Daryl. I didn't want to make him angry, or embarrass the hell out of him; I just wanted him to understand the dangers of his smoking. Plus, it was kind of funny watching him struggle to do something as simple as eating, not that I would ever laugh out loud at the man. I didn't want to lose him, or hurt his feelings. He would always deny it but he had a gentle heart.

"We can work in teams of four, work back-to-back so someone always has ya covered, and have two enter the front of the house and two at the back. One pair then takes downstairs and another take upstairs, clear the place of walkers along with food and medicine. Should be quicker that way." Maggie offered up, picking up that I wanted to steer the conversation back on track.

I felt Hershel's eyes on me and I looked up at the old man, who tipped his head towards Daryl. "Orajel." I mouthed in his direction. The corner of Hershel's lips twitched upwards at my practical joke, but he understood my reasoning just fine. Though he was a vet and not a doctor he was bound to know the side effects of smoking.

With clean plates everyone left the table to get ready for the night, but Daryl stayed seated beside me, taking his hand back from my crotch. I couldn't get up at the moment thanks to Daryl's hand working away during dinner. I groaned at the loss of his dextrous fingers though. I needed my release and damn it I'd been so close! "Ya a' arse, Grimes." He fumbled out, his hand moving to wrap around my waist, pulling us closer. "Taintin' ma smokes." Daryl shook his head, a wry smile on his chapped, numb lips. It would wear off in a few hours but until then I could only hope he would understand why I'd done what I did.

"Your smokes are causin' your veins and capillaries to constrict, making it harder for your blood to flow, and soon you'll be experiencing that numbness without the use of damn Orajel. You're slowly killin' yourself, Daryl. Ain't it bad enough that we have walkers chompin' at the fence wanting to kill us, and the Governor and his lot wanting our heads?" I reasoned softly with my hunter, turning in my seat to put a hand to his face, swiping away the carrot remnants with my thumb. Making my hunter see sense was more important than the bulge in my pants.

A scowl decorated his handsome features, but his whole face softened as I touched him. Leaning into my hand his eyes found mine and I could feel him searching for something, though what he was looking for I had no idea. We sat silently for a few minutes before he sighed - a heavy, sad sound. Nodding he seemed to reach some form of conclusion. "Ya right, Rick. 'm sorry. Will ya help me give 'em up? I wanna stick 'round long enough to see ya go grey and lose ya marbles, and I wanna be able t' watch Judith kick someone's ass when she's big enough." The way Daryl's lips curved upwards when he spoke of watching Judith grow up made my heart ache. He was practically another father to her and I had no doubt in my mind that he'd teach her everything he knew about surviving, that he'd be there to batter any boy survivors we found in the future who wanted to date her and ended up breaking her heart.

Feeling proud that I'd managed to convince the hunter that his smokes were bad for him, even if I had to resort to embarrassing him to get the point across, I threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in so I could sneak a kiss to his dirty temple. Smiling against his skin I stroked a finger along the slender column of his neck, knowing I'd be making this up to Daryl once everyone had gone to bed. "I sure can Daryl, I sure can."


	4. Intercourse Interruption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Myurra-K – ‘'prank war'. Maybe they almost go too far, or they discover someone's a ruthless pranker, or they play a prank on Rick and Daryl?
> 
> Pairing – Rick/Daryl, mainly porn with a smattering of plot!
> 
> I have a few prank ideas written down actually, so expect a few more based on pranks in this little series! I have a prank idea for Daryl's revenge on Rick for Rick's antics in 'Sinful Smoker' that I'm pretty excited to work on! 
> 
> Set during the first few episodes of S4 as the pair try to have a moment together during the whole ‘flu outbreak’ thing. The bromance is a bit of a romance by now in my mind ;)
> 
> Please throw prompts at me if ya have any guys, 'cause I love them :3
> 
> I hope this and the other prank one-shots I write in the future are okay for ya Myurra-K! :)

Carl sniggered as he pried the screws loose from the ‘gentlemen’ sign adorning the door, using the screwdriver he’d stolen out of Daryl’s tool kit. The ‘ladies’ sign was wedged between his knees, the screws in the pocket of his jacket. He’d placed a sign on their usual toilets saying that they were clogged, and that he would unblock them later, but that in the meantime everyone should use these toilets. Giving one last tug the sign was freed from the door, and Carl grinned triumphantly. Swapping the sign between his knees, he held the ‘ladies’ sign up to the door, making quick work of the screws as he reattached it. Pivoting on the spot he faced the ladies bathroom and, biting his lower lip to stop his smile, he lifted the other sign, screwing it in place. Carl took a moment to admire his handiwork but the sound of his dad and Daryl stumbling down the corridor together had the younger Grimes sprinting around the corner to hide. Every night after dinner they would disappear for an hour and come back happier, a little lighter. Carl had followed them a few days back to see where they went, and that was when his little plan had come to mind.

Rick and Daryl clattered down the darkened corridor together, lips feverishly attached, hands grasping at one another’s clothes, hair, ass - anything they could find in the darkness. “Fuck, Rick.” Daryl gasped as the older man shoved him roughly against the wall. Rick’s hands slipped under the hunter’s shirt, tracing the strong muscles of his abdomen before he set about removing the offending item stopping them from feeling one another skin. Rick’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of Daryl’s shirt as his lips bruised the hunters, walking the younger man along the wall. They only ever used this corridor, and these toilets, when they wanted some time together. It usually meant they found themselves here every day just before dinner. The bathroom wasn’t exactly the most romantic place in the world for their impromptu fucks, but these days there was no real such thing as romance, not when the world had gone to shit.

Peeling his lips from Daryl’s, Rick freed the younger man from the confines of his shirt, tucking it in the back pocket of his jeans so it wouldn’t get dirty. Laundry day was only once a week and the redneck had limited clothing. Turning his head, Rick gave his lover a chance to catch his breath as he glanced to the male sign on the door, but Daryl only saw it as more of an opportunity. His lips sought purchase on Rick’s jaw; pressing kisses over his scratchy beard. Daryl didn’t know any different, not with Rick being his first and more than likely his last. His rough childhood and abusive father, marking his back and screaming at him at every opportunity that he was a worthless bastard, mixed with his homophobic and racist brother, had ensured that the younger Dixon had never been able to get a partner, let alone get laid. That had all changed though when he’d first become close to Rick, close enough to test out something as simple as a kiss. The deputy hadn’t reacted like Daryl had expected. He’d expected him to lash out, to tell him he wasn’t gay, that he wasn’t interested. Instead Rick had surprised him once again when he’d kissed him back, pushing him against the counter in the house they’d been raiding and stealing every last bit of air from his lungs with his crippling, passionate kiss before he’d bent Daryl over the aforementioned counter and taken him with surprising gentleness. Maybe his brother was right, maybe Daryl was Rick’s bitch now, but the redneck didn’t give a fuck so long as it meant he’d be on the receiving end of the deputy’s talented mouth, kind caresses, and sharp thrusts. Daryl had no idea what it would be like to kiss the smooth, hair-free jawline of a lady, but he had no desire to try it out. Rick was everything he wanted

“In there.” The deputy breathed out through a moan as Daryl’s hands wandered lower, one grabbing onto his ass while the other cupped his hard-on, stroking him through the thin layer of his pants. Rick didn’t want them to be so exposed and at least in the bathroom they would be safe from any walkers that might stray their way, even though they’d cleared out this area before and had ensured it was secure. Yanking on the younger man, Rick kept them close as he manoeuvred them through the door, kicking it shut behind them.

Daryl, sensing an opportunity, took the chance to flip them, pushing Rick against the wall to see how he liked it. Kicking the mans legs apart Daryl settled against him, working Rick through his pants still, though his fingers swept across his own hard-on too. “Fuck, me, Daryl.” Rick groaned as the man attacked his throat, sucking, nipping, and licking away in a desperate hope to mark the man as his. Rick’s head tipped back and exposed more of his throat to the hunter, who greedily laved the newly exposed skin with his tongue.

“That’s wha’ I intend ta do.” Daryl murmured against the leaders skin with a smile, pulling back just far enough to undo the buttons on Rick’s service shirt. Removing the item he threw it behind him where it landed on one of the sinks, thankfully dry as the taps had yet to start leaking. With a shove Rick pushed Daryl towards the sinks, one hand lost in Daryl’s dark hair while the other removed the shirt from his own back pocket, adding it to his own on the sink beside them. Tongues dancing and hands grabbing, Daryl pushed the older man back to the sink, the cold surface hitting Rick’s lower back. Daryl’s dexterous fingers grabbed at the buttons of Rick’s pants which he undid with a flick of his wrist, now well practiced in getting the man in front of him undressed at the drop of a hat. Rick’s pants slid off his narrow hips, hitting the floor with a resounding thud. Daryl wasted no time in grabbing the mans throbbing erection, pumping him twice before Rick was sliding the hunters pants off, grabbing Daryl's erection too.

Daryl panted, his lips moving down to suckle at Rick’s collarbone. “Keep that up an’ we ain’t gonna get very far.” He mumbled against the other mans skin. With a breathy chuckle Rick’s hand went instead to Daryl’s rounded butt, which he grabbed with enough force that Daryl was sure he would have Rick shaped fingerprints bruised into his skin come morning. “Bend ova for me, Rick. Lemme see that gorgeous arse of yours as you spread your legs for me.” Daryl ordered, his voice stern but low in the other mans ear, enticing him. Daryl had discovered not long ago that Rick enjoyed a bit of dirty talk when he was being fucked. Lori had never felt comfortable enough to give it a try, even though Rick knew it would drive him wild. Daryl had only found out that dirty, nasty mutterings in Rick’s ear made him painfully hard when they’d gotten drunk together one night up in the guard tower. Daryl had found a bottle of whiskey when they’d been searching a house a few miles from the prison and he’d brought it back to share with the leader. Excessive drinking and the husky voice Rick gained when drunk had led to the pair of them fucking on the guard tower floor, and once the liquor started flowing the Dixon potty-mouth had come out to play with surprising results.

Obeying his younger counterpart, Rick let go of all contact with the other man, whimpering lowly as Daryl let go of his cock, letting it spring up and slap him in the belly. Turning on the spot Rick’s hands grasped onto the ceramic sink and he did as he was told, bending over to present himself to the dark-haired man behind him, spreading his legs wide. Slick was hard to find and was used for so many varying purposes these days that when it was found it was virtually impossible to keep it a secret. Rick and Daryl made do instead, spitting on their palms and fingers, working one another open properly to try and minimise the pain. This evening though there would be little prep work. Rick had been tormenting Daryl at dinner, sucking on his fingers like they were damn popsicles, that smug smile on his lips as he noticed Daryl shuffling in his seat, hand going to his crotch to subtly rearrange his quickly hardening cock. Rick had been asking for it and now he was about to get it.

Spitting onto his palm Daryl wrapped his hand around his cock, slicking himself up before he spat on his hand once again, this time pressing his fingers against the deputy’s hole. He was met with little resistance as Rick surrendered to him, moaning low in his throat as Daryl slipped two fingers into him, scissoring them. “Please, Daryl.” Rick begged from beneath him, unable to take any more. He wanted his hunter inside of him, now.

Feeling proud that the deputy had begged, Daryl removed his fingers, lining up his throbbing cock. With one fluid thrust he buried himself in the leader, Rick’s hands scrabbling at the sinks smooth surface as he groaned in a delicious mixture of both pleasure and pain. Daryl set a bruising pace, his hips slamming forward before he would draw all the way out until only the very tip of him was left inside his lover, then the process would start all over again. In. Out. In. Out.

Carl remained hidden outside, tucked around the corner and out of sight. He’d witnessed his dad and Daryl enter the bathroom and though he cringed at the thought of his dad having sex, he held nothing against him for taking to someone new, especially someone like Daryl. Carl enjoyed being around the hunter and found the few stories he was happy to tell utterly entertaining. If anyone in the little group of survivors at the prison were worthy of his dads affection it was Daryl. They’d saved each other’s lives countless times. Carl didn’t enjoy hearing them going at it, given that the wall between him and them wasn’t particularly thick, but he knew that if he were to move right now he would miss the main reason for his earlier antics. Screwdriver secure in his hand he glanced over his shoulder, as he had been doing every 15 seconds to check for any stray walkers. Knowing he had to keep quiet, Carl tiptoed back to the bathroom doors and, with silence that he’d only gained thanks to the end of the world, he took off the signs, switching them back again.

Low whistling rattled through the corridor just as Carl put the last screw back in place and he moved swiftly to hide around the corner as Maggie came into view.  He knew she would come to the bathroom soon. An hour after dinner she always went to the bathroom, like clockwork. Lost in her own little tune she glanced to the ‘ladies’ door sign before she gave it a shove, taking a step inside.

Daryl continued to pound into Rick, enjoying the grunts from the older man, the way his fingers scrabbled at the ceramic sinks around them. Wrapping one hand in Rick’s thick mane, Daryl pulled him upright, forcing him to arch his back. Reaching around he placed his free hand on Rick’s cock, giving it a firm squeeze before he started to pump in time with his thrusts. A strangled cry left Rick’s parted lips as the new angle afforded Daryl the opportunity to hit Rick’s prostate on every thrust. “Daryl. Fuck.” Rick whimpered, feeling himself teetering on that golden ledge. With a few more well timed pumps of both Daryl's hand and his hips, Rick was thrown into his orgasm, the clenching of his muscles pulling Daryl’s release from him, eliciting a roar from the younger man and a deep, reverberating groan from the deputy.

Maggie screamed in shock as soon as she set foot in the door, just in time to see both Rick and Daryl lost in the middle of their orgasms. Her scream abruptly ended as she clapped a hand over her mouth, both sets of wide-eyes turning to look at the source of the scream that had interrupted their orgasms. Daryl sprang back from Rick, hands going to cover himself, forgetting that he’d been balls-deep in the man right in the middle of cuming. “Shit. Fuck. I’m sorry!” Maggie babbled as she moved to cover her eyes, not wanting to see the two men so exposed. Whimpering, she made a hasty escape from the bathroom. Rick and Daryl were perfectly fine with letting the others see their soft, affectionate touches, even the occasional chaste kiss, but they tried not to expose the rest of the group to their fucking, especially not with children around.

Carl’s hands locked over his mouth as Maggie fled the bathroom, running back to the cellblock to hide in utter mortification. Try as he might he couldn’t stop himself from laughing, and even with his hands over his mouth he knew he was still being loud. That would teach his dad for walking in on him and interrupting him when he’d been about to have his first ever kiss with Beth! It didn’t matter that she was 4 years older than him. She was pretty and kind, and she looked out for him and Judith. He was looking forward to giving her a small, shy kiss, but his dad had walked in and ruined his plans just as he was about to lean in and close the gap between them. Carl could hear his dad and Daryl swearing up a storm inside the bathroom, and could hear the sound of them hastily getting dressed, along with the running of one of the taps. Deciding now was the time to quickly return to the cellblock and pretend he’d been outside in the yard; Carl made a run for it. He nearly made it around the corner at the other end of the hallway before his dads voice bounced off of the walls, loud and imposing. It was his deputy voice. “CARL.”

Wincing, Carl turned quickly to face his dad and Daryl, hiding the screwdriver behind him, tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. An innocent smile danced on his lips as he tipped his head sideways, like a curious puppy. “Yes dad?” A deep blush was colouring Rick’s face as he moved towards his son, flowing down his throat and disappearing down his shirt. Only Daryl knew how far down that beautiful blush went.

“What are you doing down here, son?” Rick asked, taking a few steps closer to his boy. Daryl was lingering behind him, watching father and son interact. With one eyebrow quirked Daryl focused on Carl’s body language. Both men had redressed and cleaned up after Maggie had interrupted them, but not before hearing the young boy laugh.

“The main toilets weren’t working, so I came down here to use these ones, but I just heard Maggie scream so I was heading back to see if she was okay.” Carl lied, shrugging his shoulders.

“That right Pinocchio?” Daryl piped up, challenging the young Grimes. Daryl glanced to the bathroom signs, noting that they'd changed since he and Rick had entered the bathroom.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Carl shuffled towards the wall and Daryl knew he had him. Each member of their group had a tell, and the young boys involved shuffling to the nearest wall so that he could press himself against it, a subconscious gesture that he wanted to get away, to disappear.

“How did you know it was Maggie, Carl?” Rick questioned further, using his training from the force to interrogate his son. He had no doubt that his boy had something to do with Maggie interrupting his tryst with the hunter. Carl had always fought a little dirty, and Lori had always insisted that trait was from Rick, even though the man worked in law enforcement and always played by the rules.

“Everyone screams differently. I gotta go and make sure she’s okay!” Carl turned on his heels, walking away at a quickened pace. He needed to get away from his dad and Daryl right now, or else he would end up laughing again and give it away. His dads’ shoes were still untied and Daryl had buttoned his shirt wrong, a testament to how quickly they’d dressed. Carl hated lying to his dad, but this was worthy of his lies.

“Hey Carl!” Daryl called out, making the younger Grimes sigh, turning on the spot to look at the hunter. He wanted to get back to the cell block and see how Maggie was. He also wanted to be there to witness his dad and Daryl returning, if only to see how Maggie interacted with them now. “Ya might wanna hide the screwdriver betta next time, or at least be a bit quieter, ya lil’ shit.” Daryl exposed the boys’ involvement in the embarrassing bathroom episode, Carl’s eyes widening.

Busted.


	5. Soap Shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt – ‘Daryl gets revenge on Rick for putting Orajel on his cigarettes’ – part of the prank prompt from Myurra-K  
> Pairing – Rick/Daryl  
> Set a week after the events of ‘Sinful Smoker’
> 
> Throw any/all prompts if ya have any at me, I love them :3

Rick thought he was so clever with his little Orajel prank. Had to hand it to the man that he’d made his point very well, but he had to go and ruin my last few smokes in the process. Although he was helping me kick the habit I had still wanted to enjoy the last few I had in my bag. Couldn’t do that though thanks to Officer Friendly. Smearing Orajel on a man’s last few smokes in the middle of the damn apocalypse…did his momma raise him with no manners?! For the first three days I’d been constantly craving nicotine, but with Rick’s support I’d been able to ignore those cravings, replacing them with fucking instead. Every time I wanted a smoke I’d find myself locating Rick, and it didn’t take the man long to figure out I’d replaced one addiction with another. By the time those three days were over Rick’s steps were gingerly made, and he always lowered himself slowly into chairs. It’d only served to work me up more though, seeing the way he was aching deliciously every morning.

Shaking my head I continued on, scouting up ahead as Maggie and Glenn followed behind me, my crossbow raised and loaded. We’d told Rick and Michonne to take the day off, do some gardening or some shit like that. They’d done a lot for us recently and were in need of some time off. Rick had protested, kicked up a storm, demanding to come with us on the supply run or at least do something like count how many bullets we had left, not that we used them that often as we tried to be quiet about kills. Didn’t wanna risk getting overrun with walkers thanks to the noise and then lose the prison to them. Maggie delegated the counting task to Carl and asked Beth and Carol to look over the food supply, making a list of things that were needed. Hershel had done the same with the medicine. With nothing to do, Michonne had disappeared off to patrol the perimeter while Rick decided that perhaps it was a good time to finally bond with his little girl. It was strange to see how soft my sheriff became when that little girl looked up at him, cooed at him from her pink blanket in the little makeshift crib. We’d have to find something bigger soon, perhaps a real crib that could be taken apart and put in the back of the Hyundai. I didn’t want Lil’ Asskicker to be sleeping in a cardboard box until she was old enough to sleep on a normal bed. It may be the apocalypse, but that little girl deserves only the best.

We’d studied one of the maps we’d managed to pick up from the warden’s office before we’d set out this morning, and we’d located a Kroger store not too far away from the prison. We had no clue how much food would be left but it was worth trying, and if it turned out to be a good hit we’d come back again tomorrow, bring the car right outside and fill it up with as many supplies as it could take.  We’d approached the store from the back, going through some woodland in a hope of finding an employee entrance, but the door was on the side of the building. Turning the corner I kept my crossbow steady, finger on the trigger and arrows strapped to my back, and stored under my trusty Stryker, for quick reloading. Two walkers were milling around the side door of the store and I took them out quickly, signaling for Maggie and Glenn to follow me as I stayed close to the building, approaching the door. Checking that the arrows had gone through all the way, ensuring they pierced the brain and truly killed the decaying bastards, I pulled my arrows free, giving them a quick wipe on a rag I kept in my arrow bag before I stored them away properly, ready to be reused.

Reloading, I glanced between Maggie and Glenn. The Korean had borrowed Rick’s machete while Maggie was carrying a baseball bat. I’d convinced each of them to hide a few knives on their bodies too, just in case something happened to their main weapons. Always paid to be prepared, especially these days. We had no idea what would be in the store, if there would be any walkers or even any other survivors. On the car ride here we’d discussed what to do should either scenario occur. Survivors we were to ignore or negotiate with, maybe even offer them a place at the prison if they looked able to pull their weight or were in need of assistance, but if they started to get violent we were to take them out swiftly. We hadn’t come this far in the damn apocalypse to be taken out by fellow humans and their itchy trigger fingers.

Making the suitable hand gestures, Maggie and Glenn stayed close to me as I headed towards the door. The door was locked but I could pry it open with the blade of one of my knives. I highly doubted Maggie had a bobby pin on her, not that it would have worked. “Cover me.” I instructed them, shouldering my crossbow as I removed a blade from my hip. Sliding the blade into the locking mechanism I gave it a firm twist, wiggling it a little. With a light click the door unlocked.

“You break into a lot o’ places before the world went to hell?” Glenn had the cheek to ask as I held the door open, ushering them both inside while still holding onto my knife.

“Shut ya mouth, Chinaman.” I teased him, shutting the door quietly behind us. Maggie’s snort of laughter was a welcome sound, and I didn’t even care when Glenn gave me a playful smack across the back of the shoulder. Physical contact from those in our little group wasn’t so bad anymore. I could handle it now, welcomed it even. Course it was still Rick’s touch that I preferred, that I felt the safest with. Strange how I felt the safest with, and a very strong need to protect, the very man who cuffed my brother to a rooftop in Atlanta. Then again, Merle had never been the best of brothers, but he had tried his hardest whenever he’d been given the chance. For a while Rick had been like a brother to me, watching my back, looking after me even when I was looking after everyone else. Course now I cared for him more than one should their brother, but our scruffy leader thankfully felt the same way, not that we often talked of our emotions. Actions spoke louder than words with us. His pre-apocalyptic job as a cop meant he wasn’t used to opening up to people, and Lori sure as shit wouldn’t have understood that. Damn women always wanting to talk about their feelings.  

The store was thankfully clear of walkers and survivors, but outside the main front doors was a mountain of dead walkers, piled on top of one another, decomposing in the Georgia heat and humidity. Maggie sighed sadly, turning her attention towards the pharmacy section of the store while Glenn set about gathering as much canned food as he could carry, throwing me an empty duffel bag to fill. A couple of shelves were overturned and I could only imagine that people had initially come here during the first few weeks of the outbreak only to flee at the sight of the mountains of dead. I was concerned as to who had piled them up there, but I wasn’t about to question it when we had such a plentiful stock before us. The place was far more stocked than the previous stores we’d raided, there was enough here to see us through a month, so we would most certainly be returning tomorrow to fill the car again. I’d lock the side door up real tight before we left so no walkers or other survivors could get in.

Rick had asked me to get some more formula for Judith, though he really had no need to. I kept a close eye on just how much we had left for Lil’ Asskicker, not wanting her to go hungry for even a single day. I knew the pain of hunger from an early age and I never wanted Judy to experience it. The baby section was opposite the shelves holding bottles of shampoo and soap, of which we’d need some too. There were a few different brands of formula and if the world hadn’t gone to hell I’d have spent some time picking out the best for Judy, checking which one was most suitable, which one would help her grow big and strong the most, which one tasted the best. Unfortunately we no longer had that luxury. Taking all the cans from the shelf I put them in the duffel bag. I didn’t want to leave even a single can behind. There was no telling when we’d next find some formula for my favorite girl.

Next to the formula there was a little stand that still housed some baby toys and, my hard-ass image be damned, I grabbed a cute plushy giraffe teddy and even a soft brown bunny teddy. I had no doubt in my mind that Judy would love them. There were even two rubber items, one in the shape of a fawn and the other in a giraffe, and they had the word ‘teething’ on the package. I’d never been around a baby before Judy, never had the chance with my fucked up family, but I knew that her teeth would soon be coming in and I hoped by then she’d give up using my fingers as her own personal gumming toy. Deciding that the giraffe would match her toy and would hopefully stop her from biting my fingers, I placed it in my duffel before I turned around to look at the shampoo and soap, knowing that if I spent any more time looking at the baby stuff I’d be taking it all back today for her. I’d grab the rest tomorrow and spoil my girl.

Grabbing at a few shampoo bottles I added them to my bag, knowing we’d be coming back for the rest later. The soap sat next to them and while looking at the few brands remaining I spotted Rick’s favorite, Dove. I’d laughed a little when he’d confessed one night, when he’d curled up next to me on the perch, that he missed Dove soap. I always thought the brand a little girly, a little soft, but I had come to realize that my sheriff had been somewhat of a softie before the world had gone to hell, with his clean-cut shave and his perfectly trimmed hair. He’d taken care of himself and it had showed, even if it had meant using a somewhat feminine brand.

Spoiling my sheriff, just like I was spoiling our little girl, I pocketed the box of soap, saddened that it was the last one on the shelf. There was plenty of Irish Spring soap though so I added all that to my duffel bag. Holding onto the last box an idea came to mind as to just how I was going to get the sheriff back for his Orajel stunt, but first I would need to find the clothing section and then the cosmetics…

The car came to an easy stop inside the yard of the prison. Glenn, Maggie, and I had managed to fill up all of our duffel bags with as much as we could possibly carry, even filling our pockets. We’d contemplated putting our stuff in the car and then doing another run, but we hadn’t wanted to risk any survivors seeing our carload of goods and stealing them from us. We’d just come back tomorrow with even more bags. Our little group came out of Cell Block C, Hershel moving a lot faster on his crutches now that he was used to them. Carl emerged with Beth, walking so close to her that their hands brushed every time they took a step. Either the girl was blind and didn’t see just how much the kid was crushing on her, or she was politely ignoring it given that he was still a minor, not that being a minor truly mattered anymore in the apocalypse. Nothing except surviving mattered, and even then the way one went about surviving wasn’t up for debate.

Rick was out next, walking beside Michonne, holding Judith in his arms. I couldn’t stop my grin at seeing my two favorite people in the world together, smiling away. The first time Judy had smiled properly, and not just because of gas, it had been at Rick and I. We’d been tucking her into her makeshift crib in our cell when she’d looked up at us grinning down at her, and without any warning she’d flung her little arms out and flashed us a pink, gummy grin, her eyes bright with happiness, crinkling in the corners with her glee. If I’d thought I’d loved that little girl before then it had nothing on how much I loved her now. I’d had to excuse myself, claimed that I needed to check on Glenn one last time for the night and make sure his Governor induced injuries weren’t hurting, before I’d let myself shed a tear over the joy of seeing little Judy look so happy. She was so innocent, so pure, so untouched, and it damn near broke my heart. It was that night that I’d made a vow to always look out for her, to always make sure she was okay and that her daddy was okay too. I never wanted her to hurt, never wanted her to suffer. When she was older I’d batter any boy who dared to look at her and they’d have to face off an interrogation from my crossbow and Rick’s Colt if they wanted to date her. I had no idea how to deal with babies, or even children like Carl. My mom had drunk herself into a stupor and set the damn house on fire when I’d been a kid, and then my dad had taken it upon himself to beat the living shit out of me whenever he’d had the chance. The moment I’d first been handed Judy though, when she’d eagerly taken her first bottle-feed from me, I knew then I’d be okay with her, with Carl even. Just because my parents were shit didn’t mean I was going to be shit with Carl and Judy.

Grabbing my duffel from the back seat along with my crossbow, which I dutifully slung over my shoulder, I let the others tend to the supplies Maggie and Glenn had found. I’d let Glenn drive, giving me time to work on my little payback for my sheriff. Approaching Rick, Michonne took off to help Carol with one of the bags loaded with cans of food. “Looks like it was a good hit.” Rick commented, observing the buzz of activity behind me, rocking Judith in his arms.

“We hit a ton o’ stuff.” I stopped myself from swearing near Judy. I didn’t want her first word to be ‘shit’ or ‘damn.’ “Gonna go back tamorro’ and clean the place out. Got enough t’ see us through a month or so.” Rick’s whole face lit up at the mention of not having to worry for a month. He’d dutifully taken on the role as our leader and it often weighed heavy on his shoulders. Any opportunity I could grab at to remove some of the pressure from him was a godsend.

“That’s good, real good. Did you find some stuff for Judith?” He asked as I headed indoors and out of the blazing sunshine. Rick followed next to me, cooing at Judith as he kept pace. I paused at my perch, placing my crossbow down on the pallet I’d made for the nights I was on guard before I reached our cell, placing my duffel bag down gently on the bed.

“Sure did. Got her plenty o’ formula.” I declared while I rooted around in the bag, producing the 10 cans of formula. I arranged them on the small table we had in the cell. Half of the cans were kept with Rick and I while the other half were kept down in the main area of the cell block, so that either Rick and I could feed her easily at night, or Beth and Carol could feed her downstairs in the day. “Ya hear that Lil’ Asskicker, ya ain’t gonna go hungry.” I lent over her, still cradled in Rick’s arms, and tickled her tummy. She giggled loudly, flailing her little arms around. Her excitement meant one of her hands landed right in the middle of Rick’s cheek with impressive force. She was a strong little girl, and she’d be a badass kid when she was older. I’d teach her how to fight, how to track and hunt, even how to use my crossbow.

“Ow, Judith.” Rick chuckled, cradling Judith with one hand while he rubbed his smacked cheek with the other.

“Even went and got ya some soap, ya smelly farmer.” I moved back to the bag, removing a bottle of shampoo and my modified bar of soap. “Go and get clean ‘fore Carol makes dinner, I’ll look after princess.” Rick and I swapped, Judith now cradled in my arms while he held onto his soap and shampoo. Carl had teased me for days, the little shit, when he’d first heard me call Judy ‘princess’, but after I stole his old mans hat from him and made him grovel in front of everyone else for it back he’d stopped. “Take ya Magnum with ya. We cleaned the place out when we first got here, but ya never know.” I ordered my sheriff, swooping Judy in my arms while she giggled happily.

“Yes, Sir.” Rick checked his holster, always attached to his hip, for his gun. As per usual it was there, fully loaded and ready to use. Rick left the cell and I followed the sound of his footsteps as he moved away from the living area. At the sound of the metal gate closing, the gate that separated us from the rest of the block, I placed Judy down on the bed.

“Now then little princess, time to get revenge on daddy!” I moved quickly, pulling from my bag one of the adorable little sleep suits I’d grabbed for Judy, one that had pink bunnies on, when I’d been scouring the clothing section. She was growing so fast that we constantly had to find new clothes for her. Her diaper was fresh, something we had a huge stock of thanks to Maggie and Michonne returning to the store Maggie and Glenn had been at before Merle had gone and fucked things up and dragged them to Woodbury.

Putting Judy in her little sleep suit I gave her the teddy bunny, pleased to see how she latched onto it, snuggling against the soft fabric. Scooping her up I moved her to her makeshift crib, placing it on the bed and up against the wall so it wouldn’t tip and she wouldn’t fall out onto concrete flooring, not that she looked like she was going to escape given her sudden, wide yawn. “Now ya stay here for just one second while Uncle Daryl goes an’ sneaks up on daddy!” I double-checked that there was nothing that could hurt her before I made a run for it, keeping my steps light as I left the communal area, heading towards the showers.

Rick was under the spray of water washing his hair, the shampoo leaving trails down his tanned skin. I was tempted to join him, to forget about my little plan, especially when he looked so damn tempting, muscles flexed and head tipped back, eyes closed to enjoy the warm water. The man was sin in a human body. I’d never found officers hot before, always running from them or lying to them ‘cause of Merle and his inability to be discreet with his fucking drug habit. I made the exception for our leader though. If there was one thing I could compliment Lori for it was her choice in husband. Grabbing Rick’s clothes from one of the hooks, I took the towel he’d grabbed from one of our storage cells with me. I left him his Magnum though. I had no problem leaving him naked, but I would never leave him unarmed.

Returning to our cell I added Rick’s clothes to our pile of dirty laundry, gathered in a plastic bag in a corner. Laundry day was soon but until then we’d be low on clothing. It was another reason why my trip today had been successful. Removing a pair of tan cords from my duffel I set them out on the bed, adding a pair of dark blue boxers I’d found, along with a dark blue shirt. I even added in some socks. I hadn’t been able to find shoes in Rick’s size but I’d found everything else with relative ease. People were too consumed with the need for food than the need to dress and keep warm. With Rick’s new clothes laid out I picked up a sleeping Judith in her makeshift crib, patting my pocket to make sure I had my other surprise for Rick as I put his towel, and mine, over my shoulder before I carried Judy down to the communal area where the rest of our group sat.

The moment my little princess was placed down gently on the table everyone was fawning over how cute she looked swaddled in her new sleep suit, cuddling her new bunny. The look Carol gave me when she saw how I’d spoilt Judy made me shrug and shy away. They didn’t expect me to dote on her as much as I did. Couldn’t say I blamed them though, they’d met Merle and been subjected to his shit, and I hadn’t been the nicest of guys when the world had first gone to hell. It was only after the incident at the CDC that I realized that hanging on to all the hate and anger was doing me, and those around me, no good.

“Carl, can you help me for a second?” Rick’s voice echoed around the communal area. I’d heard his footsteps in advance, heard him shuffle towards the gate, hide around the corner and out of sight.

Grabbing the young Grimes attention I shook my head. “Gates open Rick, why don’t ya come on in?” I offered, hiding my smile. The other members of our group glanced between one another before they looked at me, raising eyebrows or looking confused.

“Kinda can’t, ya wanna come here and help me a second?” His voice was raised a little, tight and controlled. I had to stop myself from fist pumping the air.

“But ‘m comfy man, we all are.” I moved my hands before me, nodding at the rest of the group.

“Yeah, my backs been playing up, just found a good spot for it.” Maggie joined in, lying through her teeth, the others murmuring in agreement, still unsure as to where I was taking this.

Rick was silent for a few minutes, though it felt like hours, before he finally sighed, muttering a string of curse words under his breath that carried in the still prison air before he came into view, pushing the gate open with his hip. He was utterly naked; one hand holding onto his Magnum for protection while the other was hiding his junk. Beth shrieked in surprise, turning to hide her face in her fathers’ side, Michonne bit her bottom lip to stop her laugh while Maggie let it out, nearly falling off the bench she was sat on if it weren’t for a sniggering Glenn. Carol was wide-eyed, unsure where to look, while Hershel simply shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “DAD! REALLY?” Carl screeched, hands clapping over his eyes to hide the sight of his father completely naked.

“Some 5’10 asshole thought it would be funny t’ give me damn soap that don’t lather!” His eyes lit on me and I shrugged, feigning innocence for a second.

Turning to Beth, who was still hiding in her fathers’ side, I had to control my laugh. “I got ya some o’ that paint ya like for ya nails, but ‘m afraid all the clear paint disappeared on the car ride back here. Sorry about that.” She turned to look at me, teeth sinking into her lower lip before she laughed loudly.

“Ya painted ma damn soap with clear nail polish!?” Rick sounded outraged and it only made Maggie and Glenn laugh harder, Michonne almost losing control of her sniggers.

“Well, at least we know now why you chose to drive a Hyundai.” Michonne chipped in, eyes dropping to Rick’s crotch for a moment before she looked him in the eyes, mashing her lips together to stop her laugh.

“Hey now!” Rick protested, moving his hand in a desperate attempt to conceal more of his junk. “It’s the apocalypse, ain’t got much choice!”

“DAD! Put some clothes on!” Carl was still protesting, hands still covering his eyes. Rick had since lowered his weapon, instead moving his hand to help conceal his junk, the cold metal of the butt of his gun coming into contact with his heated flesh, making him jump and cuss under his breath once again.

Turning back to look at my sheriff I grinned in his direction. “We’re even now, Grimes.” I declared while loving the way his face fell as he realized this was karma kicking his ass for his Orajel stunt on my last few smokes. 

A wry smile replaced his earlier anger and he shook his head, snorting. “Ya trouble, Dixon.”

Pulling out the bar of Dove soap from my pocket I held it up to him. “Got ya your favorite.” I soothed him. “It’s paint free.” Rick’s features softened even more as he shuffled towards us. It took him a moment to realize he couldn’t grab the soap without letting go of either his gun or his junk, and neither was about to happen.

Cobalt blue eyes met my own and narrowed playfully in my direction. “Ya bastard.” He chided me, snickering afterwards.

Leering at the man before me I enjoyed the way his blush swept down his bitable throat, still littered in light hickies from our impromptu fuck in the guard tower three nights ago, and down over his chest. Rick shuffled on the spot, teeth sinking into his lower lip, abusing the soft, pink flesh there as his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Ya gonna have t’ pick which Magnum ya wanna keep a hold of Grimes, or I could jus’ come and wash ya back for ya an’ save ya the trouble o’ choosin’?”

  
Carl’s groan of embarrassment flooded the cell block, his head falling into his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally think Daryl would dote on Judith like crazy, especially when seeing how quick he was to go and get her formula and feed her…that scene totally made my ovaries hurt.
> 
> sweeTart89, I love your prompt! I'm not sure I'll be able to do it justice and it will more than likely be reallyyyy explicit, and I'll be blushing like a nun in a whorehouse while writing it, but I intend to give it a go over the next few days, don't ya worry!! ;)


	6. River Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt – ‘Hotter than July’
> 
> Pairing – Rick/Daryl
> 
> I’m thinking this is set during S3, around episode 11, so just after Daryl returns to Rick. Michonne is watching over Merle ‘cause we all know he’s trouble!
> 
> This is more about what the guys are thinking/feeling than anything else really, though there is interaction between them. Blame all the Leedus/Rickyl feels from their little Asia trip that’s going on at the moment! 
> 
> Virtual high-five for anyone who spots the little quote Norman recently gave about Rick/Daryl :3

 

Georgia was sweltering now that the winter had passed, with the heat pushing the mercury up to 90oF. Inside the prison it was cool, the concrete walls and narrow windows keeping the blistering sun out, but step out into the yard and it was another story entirely. The heat, though welcome after the harsh winter as it provided plenty of opportunity for the vegetable garden to flourish so long as Hershel and Rick kept it irrigated properly, did mean that the Walkers were decomposing at a faster rate, their torn and bloody flesh heating up and cooking, roasting them as the wandered aimlessly around the Georgia countryside. The stench of decomposing flesh had always been present, but it was during the heat wave that it became far more noticeable, clinging to people’s clothes and turning their stomachs.

Daryl wiped the sweat from his brow with the red handkerchief he kept in his back pocket, not caring that the scrap of fabric was covered in motor oil from his hands and bike, or remnants of his blood from the times he’d had to wrap it around cuts and scrapes to stop the blood flow. Free flowing blood was like a dinner bell to the undead. Tucking the scrap of fabric back into his pocket he turned his head to the right, noting the way Rick was using the sleeve of his grubby shirt to mop at his own brow. They’d been out hunting all day and had found nothing of any use to them. The few animals they’d managed to spot and aim for consisted of squirrels and the odd bird, but they had soon ran off when they’d heard Rick’s steps. The sheriff wasn’t as quiet as he used to be when hunting. Daryl had taught Rick how to hunt over the winter months, figuring that if he could grasp it when there was little to be had, then when there was an abundance of animals he’d be fine. It was Daryl’s way of ensuring that if anything ever happened to him their little group would still be able to find food.

Rick hadn’t been as focused since Lori’s death, not that Daryl could blame him. He didn’t know what it was like to have a wife, let alone lose her, so he couldn’t understand completely, but he did know what it was like to love someone. He’d loved Merle after all, even if his big brother had been a pig-ignorant shithead at times. Rick’s distraction meant that his footsteps weren’t as light, he wasn’t as aware of his surroundings as he once had been. Glenn had thought it was foolish of Daryl to take Rick out of the relative safety of the prison, but the hunter knew the sheriff was in need of a change of scenery, he needed to be away from the constant reminder of Lori. Being trapped within four walls, or four fences, wasn’t going to do the sheriff any good. Merle had simply scoffed, raising an eyebrow at his baby brother and the way he pandered to ‘Officer Friendly.’ Daryl had been so close to telling his brother to shove his disapproving looks up his ass and stop being a dick, but the tension in the prison was already high. Glenn wasn’t a fan of having the man who had handed Maggie to the Governor for her ‘interrogation’ within the vicinity.

Hershel had been unsure too about Rick venturing out, but after a brief conversation with their sheriff, who was still struggling to hold conversation with anyone other than his right-hand man for longer than three minutes, he deemed that Rick needed to get out, if only to see something else, feel something else. With Hershel’s blessing Daryl and Rick had ventured out, taking the Hyundai just in case something happened to either of them. Daryl’s bike would have made too much noise and attracted too many Walkers, and that wasn’t viable given Rick’s current state.

Rick and Daryl wandered through the woods, taking the time to simply enjoy their surroundings. There was no way they were going to be able to find anything to eat, not with Rick’s heavy footsteps alerting all the animals in the vicinity that they were there, but Daryl could tell that the walk was doing the sheriff some good, clearing his head a little. Reaching to the hipflask of water Beth had handed him as they were leaving, Daryl offered it to his companion first, wanting to take care of Rick before he took care of himself.

Taking care of Rick was no longer something Daryl questioned. At first he had wondered why he cared so much for the man who had caused him to be parted from his brother, the man who had suddenly appeared in their little group and automatically assumed the role of leader. It was only during their stay at the farm when he came to realize that Rick was shouldering the burdens of everyone else while no one was shouldering his. Daryl didn’t have anything to worry about – at the time he had presumed his brother dead and he could hunt for himself, keep himself safe from Walkers. It had started when Rick had sat at his bedside after Andrea had pulled the fucking trigger and narrowly missed his brain by centimeters. Rick had stayed with him, chatted with him, checked up on him, and he had seemed genuinely concerned for Daryl’s wellbeing. That was a new fucking experience for the redneck.

The moment it all changed though, when Daryl had realized that Rick needed someone to be there and support him regardless of his decisions, had been when Dale had been attacked, lying there on the grass, guts spread over his torso. Shane had just stood there like a fucking fool, letting Rick do all the dirty work once again. That wasn’t what a partner did. Partners were supposed to help one another, lift some of the weight from one another. Daryl had realized then that Shane was never going to carry any of the burdens Rick shouldered ever again, and that Rick needed someone, anyone. Daryl had looked at their little group, noted how the women were crying, how young Carl didn’t need to see such brutality. There was no one left to help Rick but Daryl, and the hunter had reached out for Rick’s gun before he could stop himself, working purely on instinct. Rick had needed him, and they had survived this far thanks to their sheriff. Since then it had been habit for Daryl to shadow Rick, to help him whenever he could, be the Robin to his Batman.

Rick took the offered hipflask, raising it to his dry lips to take a sip before he offered it back to Daryl. The man had hardly taken anything and the last thing Daryl wanted was for him to dehydrate, especially in the blistering heat. “Take more, got plenty.” He reassured the sheriff, knowing that it would take some coaxing for Rick to drink more. He’d been constantly sacrificing his food and drink for Lori and Carl, looking after them but not himself. Daryl had taken to hunting for an extra squirrel or two, finding some clean water whenever he could, because he knew he would end up having to tend to a hungry, thirsty Rick. The man would never voice his hunger or thirst, but Daryl knew.

Lifting his hand, Daryl gestured with two fingers for them to head to their left. They’d kept relatively close to the prison, not wanting to venture too far, but this was still an unexplored piece of forest for them. Rick didn’t need telling twice and followed Daryl’s direction, trusting the man and his instincts entirely. The pair walked for a few minutes in silence, Rick continuing to take small sips from the hipflask of water. Though he wasn’t drinking as much as Daryl wanted him to it was still a step in the right direction.

The woodland started to thin out and the two men stumbled out into a small clearing, Yellow Jacket River running right alongside it. The trees, the branches and leaves dappling the light, tempting the two men, covered the patch of river before them. “I bet the water is nice and cool.” Rick murmured under his breath, his voice coarse with his first words since the pair had left the prison fences. They were both men of little words anyway; able to communicate with each other simply through looks, gestures, and small nods.

Daryl turned to look at the man at his side, taking in his sweaty, grubby appearance. His beard was a little thicker, his hair longer, brushing his shoulders and swept back off his face. Bags framed the area under his cobalt blue eyes and he’d lost a lot of weight thanks to his sparse eating habits. His lips were pale, almost chapped from the constant nervous licking he did. He was a mess, but Daryl still found him attractive.

The first time he’d thought of Rick as attractive he’d been angry at himself, confused as to his sudden bombardment of foreign feelings, and initially he’d been scared of what Merle would think. His brother had noticed straight away that he and Rick were close, even mentioning it when they’d tried to strike out on their own in the woods, and it wouldn’t be too long before his brother worked out that Daryl harbored some affection for the scruffy sheriff. It took seeing Rick pinned to the fence by two Walkers as more approached him that made Daryl realize that his brothers’ opinion meant sweet fuck all. It didn’t matter that Daryl cared for Rick; it was none of his brothers business. Daryl could care for whoever he wanted to, didn’t need Merles’ permission.

“Go cool off, I got this.” Daryl instructed, lifting his crossbow a little. Rick turned to look at the hunter, a strange emotion flickering across his features before he gave a slight smile, bobbing his head in his usual way of thanks. Daryl could tell the man was tired, in need of some way to cool down. The river would give them some peace so long as no Walkers came near them, but Daryl was more than prepared to take down a whole army so long as Rick would get to enjoy even just a minute of peace and happiness.

Daryl realized his mistake as they approached the water, Rick removing pieces of clothing as he was going until he was left in nothing but his underwear, dropping the rest of his clothes on the river bank before paddling into the cool water. Daryl had to suppress his groan at the sight of the sheriff stripped down. It was the first time he’d seen the man sans the vast majority of his clothing. Turning back to face the woodland they had come from, Daryl kept an eye on the trees, hearing Rick paddling in the water behind him. He had to turn around, had to put his back to the man or else he’d end up joining him, or worse. Daryl thanked God for the fact his jeans were now a few sizes too big, and considerably baggier than before, thanks to his own weight loss over the winter.

It wasn’t fair, in Daryl’s opinion, that Rick still managed to look good given his current state. Daryl had tried to not think about Rick, tried to fill his thoughts with other people when he was alone at night, worked up from the stress of the day. He’d thought of Carol, sweet and tender, someone who understood what it was like to be at the mercy of a bully, someone who’d broken away from that sort of abuse too. Try as he might though, Daryl had found it hard to think of Carol as anything other than a good friend, almost like a little sister. He felt a need to protect her, to shelter her from any more harm in the world. He couldn’t think of her as anything more, no matter how hard he tried to. Maggie had Glenn, and Beth was a little too young, plus he was sure Carl would try and kick his ass if he stole Beth from him. Tough kid. Michonne, she was a wild card, and though Daryl admired her for her skill with her katana he guessed she wasn’t the sort of woman who ultimately would enjoy a relationship, something more than simple relief fucking. That left Rick, and Daryl had never liked men before, he was adamant he still didn’t. It was just Rick. Something about their troubled leader called out to him and he knew he would be a fool to ignore it. 

Pulling on his handkerchief, Daryl mopped at his brow again, huffing at the heat, both due to the temperature and to the man paddling a short distance behind him. “You should get in here, the water is lovely.” He heard Rick invite him over from behind, the sheriff keeping his tone low to stop any passing Walkers hearing them, knowing that Daryl’s sharp hearing would pick up on his words anyway. Daryl tried his hardest to ignore Rick, lifting his crossbow a little higher and looking down the scope, as if he hadn’t heard him. “Please, Daryl.” Rick’s voice broke a little, a sigh slipping from his lips, chasing his words.

Rick’s tone broke down Daryl’s resolve and he screwed his eyes shut, trying not to sigh in defeat. He didn’t want Rick to read his sigh as him being annoyed with their leader. It frightened Daryl how easily he would give in to Rick. “Alrigh’.” Daryl conceded, checking their surroundings once more before he turned around. A low groan slipped through his lips before he could catch it at the sight of Rick in the water. The water was relatively still, wrapping around the older mans narrow waist as he stood, beads of water rolling down his throat and broad chest, returning to the river from Rick’s momentary dunking. His dark hair was plastered back against his head, the muck that caked him long washed away. He looked better for a wash, but he would look even more so with a bit of food in him and a few hours sleep. Daryl would make sure he got both of those things when they returned to the prison, the Governor be damned.

Daryl felt that familiar stirring, felt himself enjoying the sight of Rick in the water a little too much, and cursed himself inwardly, taking the few steps to the riverbank. Placing his crossbow down on the dirt he toed off his boots, socks following, then his leather vest. His shirt came next, landing on the rest of his clothes. Daryl had no problem letting the other man see his marked back, Rick had probably seen it all before when he’d been tending to him after Andrea’s bullet, not to mention when he’d spent his years on the force. It was his pants that Daryl was concerned about. The slight tenting was not visible thanks to the layers of baggy fabric, but the moment they were removed Daryl’s not so little secret would be exposed. Rick, assuming the younger man was simply shy, moved to float on his back, looking up at the sky. Daryl was grateful for Rick’s action, touched by how quick he’d been to understand and act. Undoing his belt, on which he’d had to make two new holes over the winter, Daryl let them hit the floor. Kicking them off he took three strides into the water, looking back over his shoulder at his crossbow. It was easily within reach so long as he didn’t swim too far out.

The water was blissful, cool, and refreshing against Daryl’s heated skin, and he could understand now why Rick had asked him to join in. Rick ended his floating session, back to standing in the water, though he crouched low enough for the liquid to lap over his shoulders. Daryl mimicked his actions, enjoying the sensation of the cold water on his warm flesh. Taking a deep breath Daryl dunked his head under the water, rising back up seconds later, his wispy hair now plastered to his face.

Rick’s low laughter captured Daryl’s attention as he opened his eyes, squinting through the segments of his wet hair at the man who made such a noise. Rick hadn’t laughed since Lori had passed, so the sound was a welcome one. “Ya look like a drowned kitty.” The sheriff teased, causing Daryl to scowl. He wasn’t a kitten, not in any sense of the word.

Daryl didn’t have time to back away from the older man as he approached, wading over. One of Rick’s large hands came up, sweeping Daryl’s wet hair from his face. “Nah, not a kitty.” Rick teased, offering a smile to his friend. Rick was grateful for everything Daryl had done for him and their family, and he had no doubt in his mind that if it weren’t for his hunter he’d be dead, joining Lori in the safe place she’d claimed to be in. The place Lori offered may have been safe but Rick didn’t think it was worth dying to get there; after all, he was just as safe with Daryl. The man had his back.

Rick took a moment to look long and hard at his friend, his right-hand. Daryl’s earlier scowl had softened, a faint blush coloring his cheeks, spreading down his throat and over his broad shoulders, down his thick chest and over the top of his muscular arms. Rick couldn’t deny that the man was hot, a complete sin, and yet he was totally unaware of how attractive he was, shrugging off compliments and fluttering eyelashes. It didn’t surprise Rick that Daryl had an aversion to compliments, not with the little he knew of the younger mans past.

Under his gruff demeanor Daryl was a good man, who was completely loyal to those he deemed worthy. He’d come back to Rick and though he had been in the midst of a Walker attack, Rick hadn’t been able to stop himself from being relieved at the other mans presence, thankful to have his companion back. His visions of Lori had stopped becoming so frequent when Daryl was by his side, but Lori had come back with a vengeance when Daryl had left, taunting him and reminding him that all those he held dear to him had left him. Rick had tried to fix things with Lori, tried to include her in decisions, but it had been difficult to look at her after Shane’s death, the way her belly swelled with a child that might not even be his. Rick had told Shane the child was his regardless, but there were those moments during Lori’s pregnancy that Rick had questioned how much he would love the child that would be born, knowing they may not be his. The moment he’d held Judith in his arms though he knew it would be okay, that he would love that little girl because she was part of Lori, even if she held no part of him.  

Daryl’s heavy hand on his shoulder jolted Rick out of his thoughts. “Where’d ya go, Rick? Come back t’ me.” Daryl’s rough voice was like a balm to Rick’s Lori-shaped wounds. Rick could admit that at first he hadn’t cared much for the man, finding his anger and mood swings irritating, his hatred poisonous to their group.  Daryl had changed though, softened a little around the edges, accepted that he now had a family who valued him and cared for him. It was when Andrea had fired that damn gun that Rick had realized that he cared for his hunter. Watching Daryl go down had been terrifying, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that Daryl had still been conscious and in need of help then Rick would have yelled and screamed at Andrea for her stupidity, probably not even caring if he attracted a few Walkers in the process.

“’m sorry, got lost in my own thoughts again.” Rick apologized with a snort, shaking his head, forgetting that his hand still rested on Daryl’s cheek from where he’d brushed the hunters hair from his face.

“S’alright, you’re allowed t’ get lost in thought every now an’ then, but ya need to get outta ya head right now Rick, we got major shit goin’ down back at the prison.” Daryl tried to explain gently, trying to make their leader see that his thoughts were causing problems rather than fixing them, and that they had an immediate danger that needed to be taken care of. Rick wasn’t paying attention in the slightest though, too wrapped up in watching the way Daryl’s thin lips moved with each word.

It was an instinctual movement, pulling Daryl closer using the hand on his cheek, moving it to the back of the mans neck so he could pull him in. If there was one way for Rick to get out of his own head and shut Daryl up all at once it was this. Rick’s lips met Daryl’s and the sheriff noted instantaneously how different they were to Lori’s, who had always used lip balm since they had first gotten together in high school. Her lips had always been as soft as a baby’s bottom, but Daryl’s rough lips were a pleasant surprise to the older man, a surprise he rather enjoyed.

With Rick’s eyes being closed he didn’t see the way Daryl’s eyes widened in surprise, but he felt the younger mans nails dig into his shoulder, felt the way in which his lips refused to move beneath his own. Biting back the sting of rejection Rick pulled away, putting as much distance between them as he could, which proved difficult with Daryl’s iron grip on his shoulder. It wasn’t that Daryl hadn’t enjoyed having Rick kiss him, he’d enjoyed it immensely, but he’d been surprised the other man had kissed him, had given such show of affection, especially when Daryl had no idea how Rick felt, or even if he enjoyed male company as much as he did female company. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t a done-“

Daryl cut off Rick’s apology, fusing his lips back with the older mans in a bid to silence him, to make him understand that he wasn’t being rejected, but that the hunter had merely been surprised by Rick’s forwardness. Hand returning to the back of Daryl’s neck, Rick pulled him closer until the pair of them were pressed together, chest-to-chest, his other hand finding purchase on the mans clothed hip. Daryl’s hands wandered, one sliding to the middle of Rick’s back to keep him in place, while the other crept into his long hair, fingers tangling in the chocolate brown locks he found there.

Their lips moved cautiously, softly against one another’s, exploring but not daring to push things too far. It was much more than Daryl had ever hoped to get from the older man, and though a mere kiss wouldn’t solve the problem in his pants, at which he blushed realizing the older man could more than likely feel the evidence of his affections towards Daryl against his thigh, Daryl knew Rick was still hurting. As if reading the hunters mind Rick pulled back, his breathing heavy and labored, his tongue peeking out to lick at his lips, to taste Daryl there. Cobalt blue eyes met pale blue ones, searching for an answer to a question Daryl didn’t know. Pitching forward, Rick came to rest his forehead against Daryl’s collarbone, more pronounced from the lack of food over the winter months.

They were silent for a moment, Daryl’s hand on Rick’s back drawing slow, lazy circles in a reassuring gesture. He was sure Merle would have called him a pussy for giving such reassurance to the sheriff, but if it soothed Rick then he didn’t care what Merle would think. Daryl kept his ears on the woodland, pleased nothing had interrupted them so far. “You’re not a rebound” Rick’s words were soft, murmured against damp skin, his lips kissing Daryl’s collarbone as he spoke.

Daryl frowned lightly. He hadn’t even thought of himself as a rebound, but heck, he would happily be one for Rick if he just needed someone to fuck until he was out of his depressing funk. He was use to being used anyway, but at least this time he would get some pleasure out of it. “I won’t do that to ya. I care for ya too much.” Rick confessed, turning his head a little so his nose rested against Daryl’s throat.

Unsure where the other man was taking this Daryl moved his hand that had been knotted in Rick’s hair to his waist, giving the firm flesh there a reassuring squeeze, assurance he wasn’t going to run. “What’re ya sayin’?”

Rick’s head tipped back, his lips connecting with the underside of Daryl’s jaw in a feather-light kiss for the briefest of moments. “I need t’ sort my head out, deal with some stuff.” He elaborated, hands moving to wrap around Daryl’s tapered waist. It was oddly intimate, even though they were doing nothing more than exchanging a long hug and some chaste kisses. The water had cooled them down considerably and was helping Daryl rid himself of his problem, but soon he would need to get them out of the water and into the sunshine to dry off before they could put their clothes back on. They would need to bathe again back at the prison, the dirt from their clothes would transfer back onto their skin by the time they made it home. “Don’t think I’m abandonin’ ya if I get lost in my head a lil’, or if I get a lil’ distant. I’m gonna come back to ya, just like ya came back to me.” Daryl ached hearing how much his brief parting from Rick had hurt the man. He’d hated having to chose between Merle and Rick, and most of him wanted to stay with Rick, even if that did make him a bad brother, but his damn loyalty to Merle with the fact they shared DNA had swayed it in his idiot brothers favour. He’d known the moment they’d walked away, when he’d heard the angry, strong slam of the trunk of the Hyundai, that Rick was pissed. Daryl felt a little hope that he was forgiven as he had returned, and just in time too.

Rick didn’t hold it against Daryl for choosing Merle over the rest of their group, choosing Merle over him. He regretted forcing the man to choose though, especially at the side of the damn road. Rick had been angry at the world for dealing them this hand all the way home, even going so far as to shout at Glenn and Maggie. He still owed them an apology for it, now that he remembered. If someone had told him to choose between the group at the prison or Carl he would automatically side with his boy. Family bonds were unbreakable, even more so if they were forged by blood. Rick’s main concern at the moment though was for Daryl and his feelings. He knew the hunter had them but he liked to hide them from the world, play the bad, tough guy approach. Rick was so in tune with Daryl though that the man was like an open book to him most of the time. He didn’t want the other man hurting, feeling unwanted and uncared for. He’d had enough of that from his shitty family pre-apocalypse.

Knowing they would have to leave the river very soon and return to the prison, back into the drama of the Governor, Daryl pulled Rick closer, tightening his hold on the older man. “Ya know I’d always come back to ya, Rick. ‘M more than happy to wait for ya. Lean on me if ya need, ya don’t gotta do all the heavy liftin’ yaself.”

Another soft kiss landed on Daryl’s throat and he shuddered at the contact, surprised by how much Rick’s kiss had affected him when placed in that one particular spot. Rick made a mental note of how Daryl’s body had reacted to his kiss, smiling against Daryl’s suitably cool skin. The redneck would never know just how grateful Rick was for all of his support, for all the times he’d helped him and saved him, ensured he was fed and watered. None of it went unnoticed by the sheriff, and he hoped that once the threat of the Governor had been dealt with, and his head was screwed on correctly, he could show Daryl just how grateful he truly was. Until then though all he could offer the man holding him was his words and kisses. Rick prayed that was good enough to tide him over. “Thank you, Daryl. Thank you.”


	7. Couch Companionship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt – ‘Sleeping on the couch’  
> Pairing – Rick/Daryl  
> Set during the winter between S2 and S3
> 
> Sorry for the delay in getting an update out! Life ran away with me for a while - classes in the week and then I visited family two weekends ago, and I just got back from a concert that happened this weekend! I'm gonna try and get some requested prompts done this coming weekend as I have no plans - promise!

 

Losing the farm had been the worst thing that could have possible happened to the little band of survivors. It had been a safe haven for them, with rolling fields that enabled those on watch to keep an eye on their surroundings, the ability to grow their own fruit and vegetables, some warmth and hot water from the solar panels Hershel’s environmentally friendly wife had insisted on installing before the world had gone to hell and she’d turned. Andrea was the only missing member of their group, and with each passing day they lost a small bit of hope that she was still alive.

They’d been on the move for a while now, setting up camp for the night then moving on, not daring to settle anywhere. The last place they’d stayed in had been an old barn three months ago, but a passing heard of Walkers while the group had been out scouring the local houses for food had quickly overrun it. Thankfully all of their gear had still been in the cars they’d commandeered, so upon returning to find the place ruined they’d moved on quickly. Lori’s pregnancy was moving along swiftly, and she was struggling to keep up with all of the moving around. They would need to find somewhere to hunker down for a few months while Lori delivered the baby, preferably somewhere away from towns and villages – somewhere like Hershel’s farm. They couldn’t risk a crying baby alerting Walkers to their presence.

It was getting late, the sun not far from setting, and Daryl was driving ahead of the group, reclined easily on his motorcycle, sharp eyes scouring the road ahead for any potential problems. Rick followed behind in the Hyundai, not daring to take his eyes off of his right-hand man. He hated Daryl driving the damn motorcycle. It made a lot of noise and offered the rugged redneck no protection should he be surrounded by a herd of Walkers. Lori sat in the passenger seat, with Carl and Carol in the back. Carol was still shattered from the loss of Sophia; she rarely spoke to anyone now. Rick figured it was best to give her time alone to grieve for the loss of her daughter, but he made sure to bring her food, sit with her in silence whenever he got the chance, just remind her that he and the others were still there, that they still cared for her.

Things between he and Lori were strained; they had been ever since he’d attacked Shane, killing him before his ex-partner killed him first. Lori didn’t blame Carl for shooting zombie Shane, but she was quick to slap the blame on it for Rick. The sheriff still worried about Lori’s baby not being his, but he knew he would do right by it either way. He didn’t have the luxury of a paternity test anymore. Instead Rick had found himself growing closer to Daryl, the pair of them not needing to talk things out like Lori was always insisting upon whenever Rick was left alone with her. Rick could find comfort with Daryl in the shared silence; the meaningful glances and short nods that passed between them.

The redneck was growing on the sheriff, and Rick was spending more time out hunting with him, learning how to track and prepare animals out in the wild. They poured over maps together, discussed tactics, had one another’s backs at all times. Daryl was the brother Rick had once had in Shane, but the Northern Georgia native wasn’t a mere replacement. The hunter had one thing Shane had been lacking – the ability to control himself. At first Daryl had lashed out at everyone and everything, but now he took time to process things when he was angry or emotional, withdrawing from the group for a few hours or a day, before he would suddenly return, offering to go hunting or skin the few rabbits that Rick had been able to hunt on his own, with no sign that he’d been hurting.  After the 4th time Daryl had done such a thing Rick had taken it upon himself to keep the younger man company, cleaning his colt in silence while Daryl cleaned his crossbow and bolts. Daryl would never mention it to Rick but he appreciated the older man staying near him when he was emotional. It was a reminder to the redneck that even though Merle was gone, the only member of his family left in the world by blood, he had found a family with the ragtag group of survivors from Atlanta.

Carl was sleeping in the back of the car, so silence had settled on all of the passengers to let the young boy catch a few hours uninterrupted. Up ahead, Daryl raised a hand, tipping it to the left as he turned down another road. Rick followed, not even needing to question Daryl’s judgment. He trusted him entirely.

The Hyundai followed the motorcycle into a quiet cul-de-sac made up of around 15 houses. It reminded Rick of the small village he’d grown up in, not too far from Atlanta, down in King County. No Walkers were visible on the street, but the group was well aware that there was the distinct possibility that there were some in the houses, or that some would pass through the area. The group just needed to stay quiet.

Behind the Hyundai crawled the 2003 Dodge Ram 1500 with Hershel at the wheel, Beth and Maggie in the back. Behind that was the 1990 Chevrolet Suburban containing T-Dog and Glenn. They’d tried to cut down on the number of vehicles they were using in order to best use the gas they managed to syphon off from other cars. The group often used their vehicles to block off the homes they were staying in overnight, or they would try to sleep in them if they were stuck out in the open when the sun went down. It was another layer of protection between them and the Walkers.

Daryl came to a stop on his motorcycle outside one of the houses in the cul-de-sac. Crossbow strapped to his back, he waited for a moment, listening to everything around them as the engines of the cars were turned off. “Stay here.” Rick ordered everyone in his vehicle. Carol nodded while Lori forced a sad smile. Opening the door quietly, both for the sake of his sleeping son and so as to not attract any Walkers, he grabbed the machete he kept tucked under his seat. He let the door gently close behind him, his booted feet hitting the concrete. It only took several strides for him to reach Daryl, the pair silently moving as one unit towards the house right before them. From his pocket Daryl produced his Busse blade, offering it to Rick. With machete in one hand and the blade in the other, Rick set about unlocking the door as Daryl covered him, crossbow raised and loaded, eyes scouring the street.

With a click the door was unlocked and, pocketing the blade, the older man tightened his hold on his machete. Daryl turned, facing the door as Rick twisted the handle, pushing it open with a shove.

Two Walkers lurched towards them, having been waiting on the other side of the door the moment they’d heard the cars pull up. Rick’s machete came down, slicing through the skull of the male Walker, stopping him in his tracks. Daryl was quick to fire off an arrow, piercing the skull of the female Walker blocking the entrance. Both fell at the same time. With a tug Rick freed his machete, giving one more blow to the Walkers head just to be sure it wasn’t going to try and bite his ankles as he stepped over it and into the hallway. Daryl was hot on his heels, arrow yanked from the female Walkers head and back in the flight groove of his Horton Scout. Together they moved through the house, securing doors and windows, checking every room and closet for potential Walkers. Mr. and Mrs. Walker didn’t seem to have any young children though, and it seemed they were friendless when the world ended.

With the house clear Daryl and Rick emerged back onto the street, gesturing for the rest of their group to start moving the cars in, positioning them close to the front door for easy access should they need to leave in a hurry. T-Dog moved the Hyundai for Rick, letting Glenn take care of the Chevrolet. Moving to the Hyundai once it was in place, Rick opened the back door, gently scooping up his still sleeping son. Daryl held the front door open for their group, opening it a little further for Rick as he navigated the doorway with his boy.

The house wasn’t perfect, but it was much better than any of the others they’d come across. It was a four-bedroom property, much bigger than the others they’d stayed in recently. Glenn took a tour of the downstairs, commenting that by the looks of it the owners had children, but they’d grown up and left home. The group would probably be able to get a few days out of the place if they could find enough food in the surrounding houses, and if the Walkers left them alone. The group moved upstairs first, taking beds. Hershel and his daughters took one room, with Maggie creating a pallet on the floor using a duvet and a few pillows they’d found during a run to a Target store two weeks back. Hershel and Beth would be taking the twin beds in the room. Glenn and T-Dog took another room together, deciding that rather than fighting for who would get the double bed they would just top and tail. Rick carried Carl into one of the last two remaining rooms, placing him down gently on the comforter before he removed his shoes, socks and jacket, placing them down near to his side of the bed. The house was clean, which was surprising given its inhabitants. Rick and Daryl had long since worked out that Walkers could use the stairs, but clearly the owners of the house hadn’t ventured upstairs after their turning, probably from lack of stimulants up there.

Placing Carl under the comforter, Rick stroked his sons hair back from his face, smoothing his palm over the boys cheek before he turned to leave, but not before giving a bob of his head to Lori, a sort of ‘goodnight’ gesture. Carol had taken the last room, shutting the door without a word, needing her own space after having been cooped up in a car for hours. Though it was just going dark the group would try to get a few hours sleep in. Walkers were more active at night, when the temperature dropped a little. Daryl had offered up one night that it probably reduced their rate of decomposition. The whole group had turned to look at him in surprise, wondering where the redneck had learnt such a thing. _“I did go to school too, y’know!”_ He’d snapped irritably before he’d withdrawn from the group to the corner of the room they were in, cleaning his crossbow with the red rag he always kept in his back pocket. That little scrap of fabric had been the butt of a few of Glenn’s jokes over the winter. Turned out the pizza delivery boy had a few ‘friends’ who were a little interesting, and he knew all about the ‘hanky code’ and that the little scrap of fabric in Daryl’s back pocket, if he’d walked into the wrong bar or club, would have announced to every gay man out there that he was up for having a fist in his ass. The group had fallen into sidesplitting laughter at that one; while Daryl had nearly choked on the water he’d been drinking the first time Glenn had mentioned it. _“If you ain’t careful, Chinaman, my foot’ll be up ya ass!”_ Daryl had scowled at first, but now he took the teasing from the Korean, knowing that it was difficult to find any form of entertainment in this world anymore.

For a while he’d refused to wear the scrap of red fabric though, carrying it around in the front pocket of his jeans instead, tucked out of sight. It was only when he was about to put it back in his pocket one night, having cleaned his already sparkling bolts, that Rick had snatched it from him on his way past, turning to tuck it into the mans back pocket before he’d given the rednecks pert ass a teasing pat, laughing under his breath as Daryl had turned the same shade as his handkerchief. Glenn had witnessed the whole thing and had returned back to the group as quickly as he could to tell the story to anyone who would listen. Lori had been less than impressed, lashing out at Rick the moment they were alone, spouting about how he was abandoning her and picking Daryl over her. The sheriff had taken her angry words, not even feeling the need to defend his actions. The world was a different place, and Daryl was his friend, a friend he never would have had if it weren’t for the apocalypse. He found it amusing though that Lori was talking about being abandoned. The apocalypse was relatively new when Rick had first woken from his coma, and his wife had already leapt into bed with his best friend, abandoning him and any hope that he was still alive. Rick wasn’t about to apologize for lad like behaviour that, if the world hadn’t gone to shit and he hadn’t married so young, he would have probably been doing for years and years. That was when they started to sleep apart. They hadn’t shared a bed since the events at Hershel’s farm, but Rick had always slept in the same room. Now he couldn’t stand it.

Padding down the stairs of the house they all occupied, he lit a few candles that were out on the kitchen table. Daryl had found them under the sink when he’d gone to grab some bleach to clean up the blood spills, having pulled the dead Walkers out of the house and into the back garden, where he’d left them in a pile to burn and bury in the morning when they had some light to work with. The redneck was pulling the curtains across the windows to hide the flickering lights from any roaming Walkers as Rick returned, placing a few candles down in the living room. Walkers’ vision wasn’t great, but flickering light in the darkness was a serious giveaway.

With all the beds taken that left the two men with the sofa. The owners of the house only had one, but it would be long enough for them to lie on. Spreading out a duvet that Daryl had managed to grab from the cupboard under the stairs onto the sofa, Rick marveled at how fast the hunter moved. “I’ll take first watch.” Rick offered, gesturing to the sofa so Daryl could sleep.

“Doors locked an’ barricaded, Rick. Windows covered and the streets are empty. Ge’ some sleep too.” Daryl demanded, kicking off his battered boots before he folded up his leather vest, his precious crossbow resting next to the sofa, already loaded in case it was needed in a hurry.

“One sofa, Dixon. Sleep.” Rick ordered, forcing his previous sheriff tone to lace his voice. Daryl wasn’t taking any of his shit though and in a move that had the sheriff yelping in surprise he was pulled down onto the sofa with Daryl, bouncing as he landed on the duvet and sofa cushions. “Not that I don’t appreciate the cushion under my ass, but sleeping upright ain’t comfortable.” Rick complained.

With a sigh and roll of his eyes, Daryl yanked Rick’s shoes off, depositing them next to his own on the floor. Grabbing at the sheriff’s jacket he took that off too, adding it to his leather vest on the floor. Surprising Rick further, Daryl moved to lie down on the sofa, his back to the back of the couch, leaving enough room before him for Rick. The duvet was resting lazily over his body, not much of it able to be used while Rick was sat on it.

“Comfy spot for ya, Officer.” The hunter teased, gesturing to the sliver of space before him. Rick would be able to lay there no problem, but the men would be mighty close. Deciding he had no option, because Daryl was pig-headed when he wanted something and couldn’t get it, Rick puffed out a sigh of defeat, noting the way the corners of Daryl’s lips quirked upwards with this small victory. Moving off the couch, Rick picked up the other edge of the duvet and scooted himself in, turning so his back was to the hunter. It was far less awkward this way than them being face to face.

Daryl shuffled behind Rick, trying to get comfortable. He was used to passing out on the sofa alone, not sharing it with someone, let alone someone like Rick. The man on the couch with him was a good man, an honest man who’d done right by him so far, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of companionship towards him. Heck, Daryl could even go so far as to say that Rick was his only real friend, and that he trusted the man with his life. It was this trust that made Daryl throw an arm over Rick’s waist, tucking it under the other mans lean frame to secure them in place It helped that Rick’s scent flooded the hunters nostrils, a combination of musk, manliness and fresh-cut grass helping to soothe him. Daryl wasn’t a fan of being trapped anywhere, but the sofa to his back and Rick in front of him was strangely comfortable. 

Although startled by the other mans touch, considering Daryl wasn’t a man who liked to have others pawing at him, Rick settled in for sleep, enjoying the feel of a warm body curled around him, and an arm holding onto him. With Lori he’d always been in Daryl’s position, always the ‘big spoon’, so it was refreshing to be on the receiving end for once. The numbness starting in his right leg alerted Rick to the need to move, and he shuffled on the couch, wiggling until he found a comfortable spot. “Quit ya movin’” Daryl grumbled from behind him as Ricks spine arched, pushing his ass out a small distance.

Though there were a few layers of fabric between them, the feel of the sheriff’s ass rubbing against his crotch, albeit unintentionally, made the younger man freeze, his eyes flying open as he bit on his bottom lip, stopping the moan that was daring to slip free. He didn’t like men, especially not his best friend. He just hadn’t rubbed one out in a while, that was all.

_Yeah right._

Rick huffed, moving a little more. “Just tryin’ to get comfy. Ya take u-“ His sentence died midway with a prod against his lower back. He froze; throat going dry and hands turning sweaty. He may have never been in this situation before but he wasn’t stupid, and now he knew why Daryl had told him to be still. “Daryl…”

The younger man huffed, scowling at the back of Rick’s head. If Rick had of just kept still he’d have been able to will his damn hard-on away. Deciding that feigning innocence would save him some embarrassment, Daryl steeled himself. “What now, Grimes?” He growled out, flicking the duvet off of him in an attempt to scrabble out from behind Rick. Fuck being graceful, he just wanted to get away from the other man quickly, he didn’t even care that the only place left to sleep was the floor.

Before he could get too far away though Rick’s arm shot back, clamping over the hunters waist, his other hand skimming Daryl’s lower back, fingers flirting with the waistband of his pants. Rick was holding him in place on the couch behind him. Part of Daryl, the part still hurting from years at his fathers mercy, wanted to punch Rick for touching him without his permission, but the other part of him knew this was his best friend, the one man he could rely on. Hitting him would strain their friendship, and Daryl was in position to go throwing away his only friend. It would also mean Rick would be hurt, and Daryl couldn’t’ stomach the thought of the sheriff hurting. Controlling his urge to lash out, the hunter screwed his eyes shut, a hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Rick shuffled next to him, his hand leaving Daryl for a moment before the cool palm of the older mans hand returned to his lower back, cooling Daryl’s flushed skin. Daryl felt Rick’s other hand reach up to his face, removing his hand from his nose. Daring to open his eyes he saw the concern etched onto Rick’s features, haggard and drawn from the hardships of their new life. “Don’t.” Daryl wasn’t sure what Rick meant; there were so many things he could be telling him not to do. Surprising Daryl, Rick’s hand slid further up his back, pushing their chests together. Foreheads touching, Daryl’s dull blue eyes found Rick’s electric ones.

The two men remained in silence for a few minutes, eyes locked, neither daring to blink. Slowly, so as not to startle the hunter, Rick pushed his chin out, their foreheads separating, bringing their lips ever closer. Daryl remained still, frozen as he watched his friend getting ever closer. Sure the thought of kissing Rick had crossed his mind once or twice, usually in the middle of the night when he was alone, frustrated and in need of rubbing one out. Pickings were slim, not that Daryl had ever had any pickings before the apocalypse anyway. No women wanted to get near the man, fearing his family and the way he always violently pulled away from them whenever they tried to touch him. Apparently most women were big on the touching and cuddling shit.

If Daryl was being honest with himself, which is something he strived to be, if only to keep himself grounded in reality, then Rick wasn’t merely a last ditch attempt at getting some action now the world had gone to hell. He trusted this man, he trusted his judgment, and he knew Rick had his back.

Rough lips ghosting over his own drew Daryl from his thoughts, and it took a second for it to register in his over-active mind that this was his first real, proper kiss. Lips parting in surprise, Rick took advantage, pressing his lips firmly to the other mans, eyelids fluttering shut, not pushing for anything more at this point. He’d noted the hunters body language over the months they’d known one another, noted the way he recoiled from most physical contact, so he had a vague idea that the man probably wasn’t use to tender affection, and that pushing him too far would cause him to withdraw from the group, from him.

Daryl didn’t get to savor the initial meeting of their lips, too lost in the fact that this was his first kiss, and that it was Rick, of all people, kissing him. Eyes open, he watched as slight disappointment crossed the sheriff’s features as he pulled back, eyelids fluttering open. Without caring that Merle would call him a little bitch if he were to witness this, or that Lori would probably smack him for trying it on with her husband, Daryl’s hand shot out, grabbing the back of Rick’s neck before he could get away. Pulling the other man back he mashed their lips together, teeth clacking a little, but he didn’t care. He wanted this, and from the way Rick’s arm tightened around him he knew that the sheriff wanted this too.

Daryl had seen enough bad porno in his time to know what to do next. Tongue snaking out he licked at the seam of Rick’s lips, asking for permission to explore, totally unlike the men in the bad porno’s who simply took what they wanted from their partners, not caring for their pleasure. Daryl wanted this to be good for Rick, especially if it meant the sheriff would kiss him again in the future.

The first roll of Rick’s hips was involuntary, the grinding of his hardening length against Daryl’s straining erection. The redneck froze, tongue lost in Rick’s mouth, having been granted permission as the sheriff moaned lowly. Feeling Daryl freeze beside him, Rick took control, tongue rubbing against Daryl’s, prying a response from him, soothing the skittish man. He knew Daryl was still very much a virgin, his awkwardness around people enough of a giveaway without having to bring his upbringing into the equation. He didn’t want to frighten him, not when he was finally getting to kiss the man who had stood by his side since the start. Even when they had been back in Atlanta, searching for Merle, Rick had known that Daryl would end up standing by his side one day. The two men came from very different backgrounds but were so very alike – determined, loyal, and brave.

Feeling Rick’s tongue working his own, Daryl relaxed a little, as much as one could in the midst of the apocalypse. Rick’s hand wandered to Daryl’s lower back, slipping under his shirt to stroke over the unblemished skin there – the only patch of skin on the mans back that hadn’t been subjected to the bite of a belt. As Rick stroked over the mans skin, Daryl felt the heat blossoming under his skin, felt himself willingly giving in to the older man. He never thought he would trust anyone enough to be this intimate.

Sliding his tongue back into Rick’s mouth he could taste the sweet residue of the Twinkie he’d eaten earlier in the day. They’d been raiding a gas station and Daryl had found the sweet treat, well within the expiration date thanks to the ridiculous amount of preservatives in them. Knowing Rick gave his food to Carl and Lori, Daryl had snuck him the treat, refusing to leave his side until he’d eaten it. He knew Rick well enough to understand he’d have given the treat to Carl if he could have. The sugary sweetness was mixed with Rick’s own unique flavor, and a wanton moan slid from the redneck’s lips, though he would later deny that he ever made such a sound.

Hand slipping under the waistband of Daryl’s boxers, Rick traced the soft skin across his hips, around to the front, fingers playing in the coarse, dark hair he found there, that trailed down from the mans bellybutton. Rick paused for a moment, letting himself simply enjoy the sensation of Daryl’s tongue exploring his mouth, licking his teeth, suckling on his lower lip, battling with his own tongue. Movements slow to allow the younger man to object at any moment, Rick’s hand moved lower, the heat increasing until his fingers brushed the sensitive skin of Daryl’s erection.

The younger man jerked at the contact, hips snapping forward, demanding that Rick touch him more. A low laugh left Rick’s lips, muffled by Daryl, and the younger man tangled a hand in Rick’s hair, tugging with just enough force to make the older man stop laughing, instead letting out a moan that was a heady combination of pleasure and pain. Daryl filled that bit of information away just in case Rick ever let him kiss him again.

Rick’s large hand wrapped around Daryl’s throbbing erection, squeezing ever so lightly before he started a slow pumping movement, thumb sweeping over the weeping head on every upstroke, spreading the small, pearly bead of come gathered there. Rick had no idea how to jerk Daryl off, but he simply followed instinct, doing to the younger man the sort of things he used to enjoy when he’d taken a hand to himself after a stressful day at work. Daryl was heavy in his palm, thicker than Rick, and the sheriff had a fleeting thought of what it would feel like to have the redneck inside of him. The thought gave him pause, his hand stopping for a second before he composed himself, continuing before Daryl noticed he’d stopped. A whimper left the younger man as Rick gave him another gentle squeeze, fingers sweeping his tightening balls on the downstroke.

Daryl could feel the tightening sensation building, but he was utterly powerless to stop it. It had been so long since he’d put his hands on himself, and he sure as hell had never had someone put their hands on him before. Rick pulled back from their kiss, ghosting his lips over Daryl’s, warm breath caressing them. The sheriff opened his eyes, watching the younger man screw his eyes shut tighter, whimper at the stimulation, moan when Rick brushed his thumb across the sensitive underside of him. “Let go, Daryl. I’ve got ya.” He reassured him softly, his other hand stroking along the slender column of the hunters throat.

Tipping his head back, a keening sound slipped from Daryl’s parted lips, unable to stop himself from following Rick’s request. Concerned that others would hear them, Rick fused his lips with Daryl’s, swallowing his hunters’ cries. With a force he hadn’t expected, or ever experienced before, Daryl let his orgasm sweep over him, Rick’s hand following a slow pumping action, catching Daryl’s essence and working the man through the aftershocks that shook his slender frame. Rick’s hand moved from Daryl’s throat, sweeping up and across his sharp cheekbones, tucking a stray, sweaty strand of dark hair behind Daryl’s ear as he broke their kiss. Daryl’s shoulders sagged, his ragged breath breaking the still silence that fell over them. Prying his eyes open as Rick’s hand left him, he watched wide-eyed, fascinated, as the sheriff brought his hand to his mouth, lapping up Daryl’s essence, testing the flavour. It was a little saltier than Rick had expected, but it was pleasant enough, a taste Rick could certainly get use to. Eyes lifting to Daryl’s, he kept his gaze steady as he licked his hand together, sucking his fingers into his mouth.

Though he’d just experienced a powerful orgasm, Daryl swallowed at the sight of Rick tasting him, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He couldn’t take the electric between them with their eyes locked, so his gaze travelled to Rick’s crotch, inhaling sharply when his gaze landed on Rick’s tented boxers, a damp patch at the tip of his erection. Reaching a shaky hand down, not wanting to leave the sheriff in need, he found his hand stopped by Rick, who grabbed his wrist gently, ceasing his movement. “This wasn’t about me, was about you, makin’ you feel good.” Rick’s voice was soft, husky from having watched Daryl be so vulnerable and open with him. He was honored that the man before him trusted him so much, and he told him so. “I trust ya completely, and you trust me, right?” Rick needed to double check, make sure the skittish hunter before him wasn’t going to bolt in the morning, pretend like nothing happened, slink back into his gruff façade. Daryl was a little lost for words, still recovering from his release, but he gave a nod, bringing his pale eyes back up to the shocking blue ones of his sheriff. _His sheriff._

“Then trust me when I tell ya that, if you truly want this, this won’t be the last time I get my hands on ya, and you will get the chance to return the favour. For now though I want ya to sleep. You’re getting them damn bags under ya eyes again.” Letting go of Daryl’s wrist Rick brought his hands up, cupping the hunter’s face, thumbs sweeping under the mans eyes, tracing the light purple bags. Daryl stayed up much too late, slept too little, was in a constant state of alertness. They didn’t have the luxury of relaxing much these days, but if he could get his hunter to sleep for a few hours, well, that would be something.

A smile danced across Daryl’s lips, suddenly feeling shy, and though he would have flinched from someone holding his face only a few months back he trusted the man sharing the sofa with him. Rick was captivated by the way Daryl’s whole face lit up with his smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, years vanishing from his drawn, tired features. “I want this. You.” Daryl felt it needed to be said, needed to be out in the open.

Bringing their lips together in a chaste kiss, Rick slackened his hold on his hunters face. Daryl could taste himself on Rick’s lips, and though he thought he would’ve been repulsed by it, it actually didn’t bother him. “Ya got me, Dixon. I promise ya. Please, sleep.”  Rick’s placed his arms around Daryl, holding their bodies together. He kept his hold slack though, letting the hunter know he had an out if he wanted it. The man had a problem with feeling trapped, and Rick respected that. Daryl dropped his head down, forehead coming to rest on Rick’s jutting collarbone, warm breath fanning over the older mans skin as he slipped into an easy slumber, feeling safer than he usually did.

As the sun broke over the horizon, Maggie and Glenn were up, stepping silently down the stairs. Together they peeked into the living room, tipping their heads to get a better look at the two men entwined on the sofa, not entirely sure where one started and the other ended. They would need keep Lori and the others upstairs for a little while longer, at least until the two men woke themselves. Maggie didn’t want anyone interrupting Rick and Daryl, potentially causing problems between the two men who so clearly cared a great deal for one another. Without saying a word, for fear of waking the men, Maggie held her hand out expectantly to Glenn, raising an eyebrow. Sighing quietly, Glenn pouted, though nodded in reluctant defeat. From the pocket of his shorts he produced a packet of Pop Rocks, giving them to his triumphant girlfriend.   
  
_Damn women and their ability to spot love a mile off._


End file.
